


deadline

by jilliancares



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 30 day fic, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Universe, Everybody Lives, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Prophecy, Secrets, Slow Burn, impending doom, just gonna go ahead and spoil something for us all right away:, lance is a good liar, no one is going to die, okay?, spookruary 2020, will probably include smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:47:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 77,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22483600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jilliancares/pseuds/jilliancares
Summary: Lance receives a prophecy he didn't ask for — one that comes with a countdown on his wrist and the knowledge that he's going to die.--A 30-day-challenge written entirely using prompts!(And in case you're not one to read tags, just know I'm not a sadist and Lance is my favorite character. In other words, you can expect a happy ending.)
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 1427
Kudos: 1506





	1. masks

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone!!! if you're used to reading my fics then welcome back!! yes, i am indeed doing another one of those 30 day fic things. no, i don't have any self control.
> 
> if you're new to my fics, welcome!! i have about a million fics and i swear most of them aren't this angsty. also, knowing me, you can expect this to not be Just Angst. i will definitely mix in some fluff and most probably smut toward the end. it's just,,, i like happiness. sue me!
> 
> finally, this is in part inspired by kali and my's newest event, SPOOKRUARY. we decided that it's not fair that we only get spooky content in october and went ahead and made a second spooky month. please, PLEASE feel free to participate — the more vampires and werewolves and witches the BETTER. this fic doesn't feature any of those, sadly, but i might just end up writing a oneshot or two to more appropriately honor our spooky event. if you want to find out more about it, we've tweeted about it on our (matching) accouts here: @bluegaysonly (me) and @redgaysonly (kali) with the tag #spookruary2020 (feel free to tag your fics with it too!)
> 
> finally finally, enjoy!!! i'll be updating every day, although i can't guarantee that it'll be at the same time every day. i'm a busy girl and i write and post in between all of my other responsibilities lmao
> 
> finally finally finally, feed me those delicious, scrumptious comments and i'll love you forever <3

The pillar is sturdy behind Lance. Cool against his back. Ice clinks in the drink he’s holding, and he takes another sip, the condensation wet against his fingers.

He used to love these things. The celebrations, the parties that were thrown in their honor. Now, it just feels tired. People died in the battle today, despite the fact that the majority were saved. Tonight, these people celebrate the continued existence of their civilization. Tomorrow, Voltron heads off to some other corner of the galaxy to fight some other battle, the death tolls racking even higher.

Jeez. Lance is pretty sure he used to be an optimist.

Okay, fine, he’s still an optimist. He isn’t usually like this, it’s just — it’s gotta be the alcohol. The aches and pains he’s still feeling from being thrown around in his lion all day. The culmination of a long day after a series of long days. Allura says they’re going to take a break, soon. A sort of mini vacation in order to relax and concentrate on their own mental health, for once.

“Ten bucks says there’s some crazy twist to this entire evening,” Hunk says, appearing from the crowd and accompanying Lance at his pillar. “Like some weird sex ritual or an impossible favor.”

“Wow, you still have Earth money?” Lance jokes, pretending to pat his pockets. “I have, like, seven gac and a used tissue.”

“How used?” Hunk says. “I’m pretty sure Paladin snot would go for a lot around here.”

“Seriously, if there’s some horrible twist tonight, I’m walking out,” Lance says. He gulps down the rest of his drink and sets it onto a passing tray. “Lancey-Lance wants a nappy-nap.”

“Oh good, he’s talking in third person,” Hunk says, talking to an imagined audience. “That puts you at, what, six on the drunk scale?”

“Six point five,” Lance corrects. “I feel hiccups coming on.”

The crowd before them parts, for a moment, and Allura spins by in the arms of some politician, her hair whipping around behind her. Lance makes a concentrated effort to find the rest of his team, suddenly anxious. One time, Pidge disappeared for a while and Lance nearly had a panic attack. Keith had been convinced she’d gotten kidnapped, while Shiro had marched around with a distinct frown on his face, after Hunk had pointed out that she’d been talking to some bachelor all night. In the end, she’d just been under one of the fancy tables taking a nap, having snuck one too many drinks when Shiro wasn’t looking.

And so Lance does the mental head-count.

Hunk’s right beside him — one — and obviously enjoying watching the crowd. This particular species dances to their own kind of rhythm, almost robot-like.

Two — Allura with that dancing guy, now looking dizzy and a little green.

Lance’s eyes rove the crowd, and yes — three. Pidge is determinedly following one of the floating trays around, another one stuck firmly under her arm. Lance guarantees that he’ll be able to find it in her lab later, taken completely apart only to be put back together again later.

Shiro makes four, deep in what looks to be a horrendously boring conversation with some of the planet’s royal court. His eyes keep darting to the side, desperate for escape, and Lance silently promises to steal him away from them soon. He’ll come up with some sort of excuse, he always does.

Five is Coran, doing some crazy jig and creating a larger and larger berth around him in the crowd of dancers. Mostly, they look afraid, probably thinking they’re going to be hit by flailing limbs, but some of them have started clapping in time, only ensuring to spur him on.

Six is Keith, who was the hardest to find, but that’s usually the case. He’s slouched against a wall at the opposite side of the room, ensconced in shadows with his arms crossed over his chest. It looks like he’s looking Lance’s way, so Lance looks down at his feet, clearing his throat unnecessarily.

Seven.

“I’mma hit the bathroom,” Lance announces, pushing away from the pillar. Hunk immediately looks concerned.

“Are you gonna hurl?”

“No,” Lance says.

“Promise?” says Hunk. “Because you always sneak off when you’re gonna throw up. I don’t mind holding your hair,” he jokes.

“Don’t worry, I just gotta pee,” Lance says, slapping his friend on the shoulder before ambling along the crowd and towards the hallway. It’s much quieter out here, and Lance vaguely remembers where the bathroom is, so he heads off in that direction.

A series of doors line the hallway, none of them helpfully labeled, so Lance starts guessing. One is filled with chairs, some kind of meeting room, and another houses what looks like a pool, not that Lance would ever consider himself so lucky. In all actuality, it’s probably a pool of poison, or something.

He continues along unsuccessfully, until finding a door which leads down another hallway. He doesn’t remember this from the tour, and the hall beyond is unlit. He can’t see where it ends, and curiosity strikes.

Lance crosses the threshold, his feet echoing loudly on the stone floor as he steps into the darkness. The door clangs loudly behind him, cutting off the light from the hallway, and he can only see because of the faint glowing strips on his armor.

If he were sober, Lance would probably feel more wary than he does. Seeing as he’s in no way sober whatsoever, he strides carelessly into the unknown.

It’s colder here than it is in the rest of the palace, and part of Lance starts to wonder if he’s in some sort of ancient servant’s quarters. Those kinds of hidden passageways for the workers to get around without being seen.

Further and further into the passage he goes, it getting colder all the while, until Lance finally comes to the end. There’s a faint scuffling sound, and someone steps out of a hidden doorway, sending a shock of fear through him.

“Shit!” he says. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to — I’m lost. Thought this was the bathroom,” he lies.

The person is shrouded in robes, but hunched over, as if age has worn them down. A frail voice answers him.

“ _Those who seek never find_ ,” she rasps. A withered hand rises, brushing the hood off her head and revealing a weathered face. Gray, stringy hair frames it.

“So true,” Lance says, laughing uneasily. “Um. I’m just gonna — head back.”

She shakes her head, and Lance plants his feet. He feels enraptured, for some reason.

“You know my people,” the woman says. “You know what we are.”

“Seers,” Lance confirms. “You guys see the future.”

“Correct,” she says. “Would you like to see yours?”

And just like that, greed grips him. Hunger. He _wants_. Do they win against the Galra? When will the next surprise attack come? Will Lance ever see Earth again? Will his feelings be returned?

Lance grits his teeth. Shakes his head. Despite the power these people possess, Allura warned them that they wouldn’t be using them. Apparently, many civilizations have ensured their own downfall by misinterpreting their futures, by trying to avoid the unavoidable.

“I can’t,” Lance says.

“Then heed my warning,” she says with sudden urgency, gripping Lance’s wrist. “ _Time runs short. That which you fear approaches. Death knocks on your door._ ”

“Wait, _what_?” Lance says, just as her grip around his wrist burns. He yanks his arm back with a yelp, cradling it to his chest. He looks at his wrist, peeling the sleeve of his suit down to see his skin, expecting to see a scorch mark, but instead what looks like a tattoo glares back at him, displaying a large, black 31.

He looks back up, indignant, but the woman is gone. The only sign that she was even here is what’s etched on his skin.

Heart racing, Lance takes a step back, then another, before he’s turned around completely and is racing back through the tunnel. Her words echo in his mind, making his blood run hot and then cold and then hot again.

_Time runs short._

Before what?! Are his friends in danger? Are they being attacked right now while he’s been off holding hands with some prophetic tattoo artist?

_That which you fear approaches._

That could be anything. Everything. The Galra. Heteronormativity. The possibilities are endless.

_Death knocks on your door._

Shut up, shut up, shut up.

He bursts back into the hallway, the light suddenly blinding and the distant noise of the party coming back to him. He’s sweaty and panting and pissed off. What had that woman not understood about him _not_ wanting to know his future?!

He looks back to his wrist, staring at the numbers which seem so much brighter in proper light. As he stares, a clock in the main hall strikes midnight, tolling loudly, and the number on his skin changes before his eyes.

30.

Lance’s throat goes dry, his knees suddenly weak. He knows, without knowing how he knows it, that this number, this prophecy, means he’s going to die.

And he’s got a countdown engraved on his skin.

A million feelings flood him at once. Fear. Despair. Panic and disbelief and anger.

And then he hears the sound of footsteps on stone and he yanks he sleeve back down, standing up straight as he stares down the hall. Keith is approaching him, looking both angry and relieved.

“There you are,” he says, coming to a stop once he’s in front of Lance. “We’ve been looking for you. It’s time to leave.”

Lance pushes away everything, the realization coupled with the tsunami of feelings and just concentrates on this. On Keith. He grins, the feel of it familiar on his face, and yet entirely foreign. Like a mask. It feels wrong to smile at a time like this. When he knows what he does. That his time here, with his team, his friends, is very, very limited.

“Couldn’t find the bathroom,” Lance says, and his voice comes across surprisingly stable. He takes a breath and feels a fraction more normal, so he takes another. “I got lost.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “C’mon, you can pee when we’re back on the Castle,” he says, and he grabs Lance’s wrist, right where he’s been marked.

Lance heaves a breath, thinks _fuck it, I’m drunk_ , and tugs his arm out of Keith’s grasp in order to sling it around his shoulders. He may be standing on Death’s doorstep, but it’s going to take a hell of a lot more to stop him from living first.


	2. mirrors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to follow me @jacecares if u want to see my tweets every time i update (or just my regular tweets 🥺)
> 
> hope you're having a great friday! enjoy!

When Lance wakes up, he doesn’t allow himself to think that any of it was a dream. He just climbs out of bed, resolutely ignoring the glaring 30 on his wrist, and goes about his morning.

A weight seems determined to sit on his shoulders. Sneaking, creeping thoughts continually try to find their way back in, despite all Lance does to ignore them. He’s always known that death was something he was risking, out here. You can’t possibly fight in a war and not think about how you might die, how any day could be your last.

But the wonderful thing about that was also the hope — the _lack_ of knowing how it was going to end, when exactly you’d meet your match. The thought of dying didn’t seem so bad if Lance had no idea when it was coming. If he could continue to fight and to hope up until the very end.

Now, Lance knows he only had thirty days left. The hope and determination that’d been blazing in him since he’d first started fighting in this war — years ago, now — flickers feebly.

Part of him desperately longs for the comfort of his friends. That part wants to burst into tears right now, to sink down against the door and tug his knees into his chest and sob because if they haven’t gone back to Earth in the years since they left it, then there’s no way they’ll be going back within thirty days, and Lance is never going to see his family again. Never going to get to hug his mom one last time.

 _That_ part of him has no problem walking into the bridge and telling the team, accepting their hugs and their shaking breaths and their desperate promises to somehow fix this, to track down that witch, to determine whether she was lying, to ignore Lance’s fate all together.

But a much bigger part of him knows that this knowledge would hurt them more than it could ever hurt him. The fact that this is happening to him is insane — almost unreal — but he imagines it would be ten times worse on the other end. If one of the others came up to him and said, _hey, I’m going to die in 30 days and there’s nothing any of us can do about it._

No, that kind of knowledge would break him. They’re already going to have to witness it. To have to bear that moment of, _he’s not coming back_ or _he’s not responding_. Hell, they’re going to have to live past it, to deal with the aftermath of it. At least Lance’s grief has a deadline. At least he has the chance to make peace with it before it happens.

So he will.

What would anyone else do with thirty days left to live? Hell, what do people do on Earth when their terminal illnesses come with a deadline? Some of them give up, surely. Wallow in despair and hopelessness. But you never hear stories about those people — just the ones who’d taken it in stride, who’d used their remaining time to live life to the fullest.

Lance can’t exactly make a pit stop in Disney Land before his dying day, but he can do everything in his power to make sure he has no regrets when he finally leaves this place. He can make absolutely sure that when he goes, he takes no one else with him.

So with a deep breath, Lance splashes water on his face, stands up straight, and looks in the mirror. He looks exactly the same as always. Nothing drastically different about him now that he knows his life had a distinct end-date.

Lance smiles, and it doesn’t look strained, or painful. It just looks like him, though perhaps too chipper for how he normally is in the morning. Abruptly, Lance turns away, shoving his way out of the bathroom and into his room. Breakfast is calling his name, and he’s already late enough as it is.

The rest of the team is gathered when Lance appears in the doorway, all sitting at the table and chatting idly amongst themselves.

“He lives!” Hunk cries, spotting Lance, who grins sheepishly.

“I wasn’t _that_ drunk,” he protests, but Keith scoffs.

“You hugged me before going to bed last night, Lance,” he says. “I’m pretty sure you were wasted.”

“Maybe you just looked like you needed a hug,” Lance says, and he pulls a plate closer to him before digging in. Hunk made space-pancakes today, which is rarer than one would think, considering they rarely have all the required ingredients at the same time.

 _I wonder if this is the last time I’ll eat this,_ Lance thinks to himself, immediately regretting it. He clears his throat.

“So,” he says, looking up at Allura. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“Sparring,” Shiro answers.

Allura shrugs. “We have no other obligations today, and Shiro wanted a day to concentrate on hand-to-hand combat.”

Lance groans, as does Hunk, but Keith looks excited. Of fucking course he does — he’s the best at hand-to-hand. Lance has half a mind to tell the team that his time is limited and he’d rather not spend it practicing skills he’ll soon have no use for, but he keeps his mouth shut. This is his burden to bear. Honestly, these last days will probably be easier if he can just ignore his upcoming fate. Let it surprise him.

After breakfast, everyone disperses to get into training clothes. Lance opts for a long-sleeve and a pair of basketball shorts he’d snagged from a space-mall, and then they reconvene in the training room. Coran is up in the observation booth, much like he often is, and Lance doesn’t doubt that he’ll supply commentary. Sometimes Lance joins him, adding his own clever comments as his friends train, but Allura usually ends up pulling him out before long, claiming he’s providing more of a distraction than any actual help.

“All right,” Shiro says, clapping his hands together. Pidge, standing slightly behind him, imitates this. Lance suppresses a smile. “What’s the most important thing about hand-to-hand combat?”

“Kill them from afar before you have to resort to hand-to-hand comabt,” Lance suggests.

“Okay, but you drop your weapon and the enemy is charging and you have to resort to hand-to-hand,” Shiro says, looking at Lance sternly. “Now, what’s most important?”

“Why did I drop my weapon?” Lance says. “Am I injured?”

“No, just clumsy,” Pidge answers.

“I’ve never dropped my weapon before,” Lance points out.

“You dropped it because it was shot out of your hand,” Shiro says. “It’s too far away to get before the enemy reaches you and everyone will die if you don’t fight them off!”

“Do they still have _their_ weapon?”

Shiro groans. Keith answers seriously.

“Always stay in the dominant position,” he says. “Never let them in your guard.”

“Yes! Thank you!” Shiro says, pointing at him.

With that, they actually start training. Keith and Shiro do the demonstrations. They’ve all practiced hand-to-hand before, but never this in-depth. Shiro teaches them certain moves, positions in which to trap your opponent, and how to get out of those positions if you’re the one trapped.

They pair off and get to work, going through the motions until they can go through them faster, and then without thinking. They all have their strengths, which makes fighting with any one person different and entertaining. They’re forced to be crafty — more so than they would need to be with actual enemies, who don’t already know their strengths and weaknesses.

Pidge, despite being the smallest, is an incredibly feisty fighter. She’s already used to fighting hand-to-hand, and she’s a formidable opponent, small and flexible enough to wriggle out of most holds, plus vicious enough to put you in one that’ll hurt.

Hunk isn’t as good at escaping from holds as Pidge, but he’s much more likely to get you in a hold and keep you there. Despite the guy being the literal nicest person on the planet (scratch that, _universe_ ), he can be vicious while he fights. Although, he does apologize to Lance after keeping him in a chokehold that makes his face go blue.

Shiro fights with no nonsense, which in Lance’s opinion, makes him vulnerable to trickery. Shiro says that they aren’t likely to work in a real battle, but he can tell Shiro’s actually amused and unwillingly impressed whenever they work out.

Keith is the one Lance struggles to win against the most. He’s absolutely ruthless when he fights and goes for just as many dirty tricks as Lance does. Also, it probably doesn’t help that Lance struggles a little bit less than he should whenever Keith has him pinned.

They keep fighting and rotating — Pidge winning by getting on Lance’s back, Lance managing to pin Allura only to apologize when she coughs and get pinned in return, Shiro falling prey to Lance pointing to something over his shoulder dramatically — until Lance is with Hunk again. They’re fighting desperately, neither one of them holding back, until Lance plows towards Hunk, who surprises him by dodging out of the way. With no way to stop his momentum, Lance crashes to the ground, throwing out a hand to catch himself only to yelp when it hits the ground.

Pain radiates up his arm, momentarily making his sight flicker as he collapses against the mat.

“Lance!” Hunk says, and the training room goes silent, everyone circling around them.

“What happened?” Allura asks.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lance says, pushing himself up with his opposite hand. His wrist is throbbing, and it’s sending shocks of pain all the way up his arm, throbbing with every heartbeat. He holds it awkwardly, protected against his body, as he struggles back to his feet.

“Did you break it?” Hunk asks urgently.

“Let me see,” Shiro says, reaching out for Lance’s hand, and Lance jolts backwards, out of his reach. He just realized that it’s on his right wrist, the one where the number’s imprinted on his skin, and he can’t let anyone see that.

“I’m fine,” Lance says, forcing some lightness into his voice. “I’m feeling better already. Just landed on it wrong.”

Allura frowns. “We should probably still check it out,” she says, but Lance shakes his head.

“Seriously, I’m good,” he promises. “Let’s just continue. I almost had Hunk, that time.”

So they continue sparring, except Lance favors his right hand greatly. He tries not to make it obvious, so he focuses more on dodging than punching and pinning. Anytime he gets caught up in the fightand accidentally uses his right hand, he has to bite down on his tongue to keep from crying out. He doesn’t know if it’s broken, but it’s definitely sprained at the very least, and he’ll need to sneak into a pod tonight if he wants it to be better by tomorrow.

It’s when he’s fighting with Keith that things go to shit.

Keith isn’t going any easier on him, and he’s starting to realize that maybe everyone else was, knowing that he wasn’t being entirely truthful about his wrist.

“Why wouldn’t you let Shiro look at it?” Keith says, grabbing Lance’s arm when he swings and pulling him in close. Lance struggles, but Keith tightens his grip, and Lance isn’t willing to push him away with his right hand.

“Because I’m fine,” Lance lies, and Keith reaches for Lance’s free hand, making him flinch. Keith doesn’t actually grab him, but he still looks smug, and Lance struggles harder than before.

“You’re hiding something,” Keith says. “Why did you wear long-sleeves today?”

“I was cold,” Lance says.

“Yeah, that’s likely,” Keith scoffs, but he lets Lance go.

It’s only then that Lance realizes that Keith is wearing long-sleeves too. And he usually wears short-sleeves, doesn’t he? In fact, Lance isn’t entirely sure if Keith has _ever_ worn long-sleeves to training before, meanwhile Lance does every so often. Usually when all his t-shirts are dirty.

He spends the rest of the day confused and trapped in his own thoughts, wondering if Keith has a similar brand on his skin. Wondering if he heard a prophecy, too. And if he did, whether it’s the same one that Lance heard, or something else entirely.

That night, Lance closes himself in a pod to heal. It’s only a few hours, but it’s a few hours where he’ll be totally unconscious — in a way that’s different from sleeping. A few more hours of his life wasted away, given up. The thought makes him anxious, as does every one concerning the end of the road before him.

It’s with something close to relief that Lance ends up closing the door, silencing his thoughts for the next few hours.


	3. two can play at that game

Lance isn’t expecting the usual meet and greet which comes with being expelled from the pod. He’d gone in secret, after all, which is why he’s surprised when he stumbles out to company.

Having just woken from cryosleep, his mind’s not exactly the sharpest, his mental facilities not entirely online yet, but he knows seeing Keith outside of his cryopod spells trouble.

“Keith, my buddy, my—” Lance yawns “—man.”

“Lance,” Keith says. He holds out a water pack, knowing equally as well how the pods make your mouth go weirdly dry, and Lance accepts it with a hum. Maybe they’ll both just forget about yesterday’s oddities. Pretend they don’t both know that the other is hiding something. “You know you’re not supposed to go in the pods without the cryosleep suit, right?”

Or not.

“I was only in there for a couple hours, it wasn’t necessary,” Lance says.

“Still. Coran says it can cause horrible abrasions without it.” Lance is pretty sure Coran’s never said any such thing, but Keith’s already reaching for his wrist as if intent on examining him for possible injuries.

Lance skirts out of the way, his lip just barely twitching upwards. He should feel annoyed. Maybe apprehensive. Instead, he just feels kind of… relieved. Keith’s hiding something too, that much is obvious, and however horrible it may seem — and Lance will never speak this aloud — this whole prophecy thing might feel a little more manageable with someone by his side.

That’s not to say that he wants Keith to die. Quite the opposite, really — he’d rather go on his own, after all. No point in leaving Voltron down two paladins. But if Keith’s heard the same spooky words that he has, then maybe it’s more general after all, not exactly specific to Lance. Maybe there’s something that can be done to prevent it, or to figure out who it actually applies to.

Stupidly enough, Lance allows himself to hope.

Still, he’s not about to just show Keith his wrist. There’s a chance that he’s completely wrong about all this. Maybe Keith just noticed him acting oddly the day before and has nothing of his own to hide. Maybe he’ll see Lance’s wrist and be perplexed and Lance will have to either lie to his face or tell him the truth — each of which sound like equally horrible options.

And so he evades.

“I’m fine, honestly,” he says. “But hey, do you have the time?” Lance reaches for Keith, knowing he doesn’t wear a watch on his wrist. Two can play at that game. But Keith just crosses his arms firmly over his chest, glowering at Lance.

“Five more vargas until everyone wakes up,” he says stiffly. “You better get to bed.”

They both stare at each other for a moment. Lance is sure Keith is hiding something, sure he bears a similar mark, but neither of them are willing to make the first move. Lance smiles tightly.

“You’re right,” he says. “Night, Keith.” With that, he leaves the healing chamber, Keith’s footsteps nowhere to be heard behind him, despite the fact that their rooms are right across from each other.

Come morning, Lance has developed a plan, like it formed in his sleep.

By the end of the day, he’ll know if Keith is suffering his same fate.

Lance barely spares his wrist a glance, his mouth drying up and his stomach twisting when he happens to spot the 29, but he slips on his jacket and hides it from view, getting on with the day like he would any other.

Breakfast is goo, which is unexciting but not unexpected, and Allura alerts them to the fact that they’re in communication with a new planet. Some people on the planet Zertix have requested their help, though they promise that the problem isn’t Galra-related. Naturally, they’re suspicious, so they’ll be doing some recon before they go. Might take a couple days.

Keith, meanwhile, is wearing his jacket, though that’s not necessarily suspicious. He wears it every day, as does Lance. Still, they make eye contact more often than they usually do over breakfast, which only further leads Lance to believe he’s hiding something.

“What about the seer people? The Ilsveux, or whatever they’re called.” Pidge says, and Lance’s focus narrows as if she’d said his own name.

“What about them?” says Allura.

“Can’t we ask them if something’s up with Zertix?”

Allura’s already shaking her head. “We recruited them as allies because to have them on the opposite side of the war could be disastrous, but we won’t be using their abilities. The future has been known to make people insane.”

“Then maybe we should’ve left them to the Galra,” Keith mutters.

“I already have plans to contact our allies close to Zertix, surveillance shouldn’t be hard to come by,” Allura promises, and regular breakfast conversation resumes. Well, regular for them, anyway.

Shiro starts talking about Zertix more in-depth, asking if they’d given any information about what they needed help with. Pidge raves about an invention she’s in the process of making, a type of electrocution-bomb that would be resistant to their armor but detrimental to others. Hunk steals Lance’s attention with the idea for an awesome upgrade to their lions, but then he mentions that it wouldn’t be ready for testing for another month or so, and Lance’s mood sinks.

After breakfast, everyone disperses to their usual activities. Lance often bounces around when he’s bored, checking in to see what the others are up to, but today he follows Keith at a distance, planning to spy on him.

First, he trains. Lance’s excitement builds as he follows him to the training deck, taking a different path and ending up in the observation booth, but to his disappointment Keith neglects to take off his jacket before fighting the practice bots. Nonetheless, he watches him for a good hour, because even if he’s not learning anything about supposed numerals on his skin, it’s still a nice view.

Afterwards, Keith hits the showers, but he closes the door behind him and Lance can’t think of a way to follow him without being noticed. Also, playing the Peeping Tom is a little creepy. He can admit that. Still, he holds out hope that Keith will emerge jacketless, much to his continued disappointment.

He doesn’t know if this is how Keith usually spends his days, but it only gets more boring from there. He disappears into the bay to visit Red, and Blue perks up when Lance steps in the room after her. Immediately, he can feel her worry and interest pressing at his mind, which only has him shying away further. He has a feeling she’ll be as distraught as his team in 29 days’ time, and he doesn’t want to admit to her that her worry is founded.

So Lance hides himself in the shadow of a doorway while Keith is with Red, and he leaves without acknowledging Blue when Keith makes his way out of the chamber again.

He follows him to the rec room where he claims one of the data pads, probably scrolling through old records or maybe reading one of those horribly-translated Altean novels. That’s when he finally speaks up.

“Should I pretend you aren’t here, or are you good with thinking you’re spying on me successfully?”

Lance scoffs, stepping out of the doorway and glaring at Keith.

“I wasn’t _spying_ on you,” he says.

“Then why have you been following me around all day?”

Lance’s mouth twists. Maybe he wasn’t quite as sneaky as he’d hoped.

“You’re hiding something,” Lance blurts, throwing himself onto the couch beside Keith.

“Talking about yourself again?” Keith says, but his eyes linger on Lance’s wrist, hidden beneath the sleeve of his jacket. God, Lance wishes he would just show his own first. He can’t risk being wrong about this.

“You’re impossible,” Lance says, and Keith ignores him, going back to whatever he was reading. Lance scoots closer, feigning interest in what’s on the data pad, and he can feel Keith stiffen where their sides are pressed together.

It is indeed a badly translated novel. A romance, by the looks of it.

“You have one too, don’t you?” Lance says, his voice quiet now. He looks away from the book, towards Keith, and their faces are awfully close together. If Keith looked back at him, they’d probably brush noses.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Keith says, sounding gruff. Lance can see his heartbeat in his neck. The way it flutters against his skin. The way his chest moves with every breath.

The data pad is balanced in his lap, propped up by his hands, and Lance slowly, carefully, let’s his hand rest atop Keith’s. Keith stiffens even further, but he doesn’t draw his hand away. And Lance doesn’t try to tug his sleeve down.

“A prophecy,” Lance says, more urgently now. “That woman — that witch — she talked to you too, didn’t she?”

Keith stops breathing. Lance can feel him tense up. Can hear the stutter in his breath before it stops all together, held in his throat.

“I’m right,” Lance says. “She told you something too. What is it?”

“I — can’t say,” Keith blurts, and Lance’s heart is racing now. He has to know. If their fates are intertwined… God, just the _thought_ of not being at the mercy of this prophecy alone…

They won’t even have to burden the rest of the team with this news. They can figure it out together, can take careful steps to make sure the future doesn’t affect them like it has so many others. They can curb their panic and find comfort in each other. Suddenly, 29 days doesn’t seem like a miniscule amount of time. It feels like a lifetime, if he has that long to get to the bottom of everything with Keith.

He didn’t realize just how frightened he was, just how alone he felt, until now.

“Keith,” Lance says, his voice thick with meaning, and his fingers twitch against Keith’s sleeve, his desire to _know_ sparking his body into action.

But Keith wrenches his hand away. He leaps up, tossing the data pad onto his abandoned seat and backing hastily away from Lance. He’s glaring, and a flush is creeping its way up his neck.

“You don’t want to get involved with me,” he says heatedly. “It won’t end well.”

His words of warning have the opposite effect. Lance’s heart soars, a smile spreading across his face as Keith storms from the room, his shoulders inching towards his ears.

Of course it won’t end well. Not if Keith thinks he’s going to end up dead.

But Lance doesn’t think he will. Maybe he’s gone about this the wrong way — maybe that hint of his future is doing exactly what Allura said. Misleading him and tricking his mind, trying to drive him towards insanity.

Lance can’t help thinking that this won’t end in death. That he and Keith have it all wrong. And jeez, if Keith thought that Lance touching his arm meant that he was coming onto him…

Well, maybe he has more to look forward to than he thought.


	4. ashes

Things are going to shit.

Allura woke them in the middle of the night with a distress call. Lance was halfway dressed in his paladin armor before he was even truly awake, blinking at the flashing lights in his room and realizing he was standing. He’d hurried after that, bayard already transformed in his hand as he’d sprinted out the door.

Keith had emerged at the same time as him, though neither of them had said a word of acknowledgement to each other, just turned and rushed off towards the bridge in tandem.

“Zertix is in danger,” Allura says once they’re all gathered together, no sign of sleepiness left on any of their faces. They’d all snapped awake in moments, too used to it by now.

The planet in question looms in the distance, Allura apparently having wormholed while they were rushing to the bridge.

“I thought we didn’t trust them yet?” Pidge says.

“Our sources got back to us. They’ve witnessed no Galra interference with the planet, but whatever’s happening down there is getting worse. They’ve sent another distress call for our help and I can’t in good conscience ignore it any longer.”

“They still haven’t told us what the problem is?” Hunk asks.

Allura shakes her head. “I don’t think their technology is that advanced. I think we’ll just have to go down there and help in any way we can.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Lance says, saluting her with two fingers. She gives them a quick debrief, including ideas of what she might expect and battle maneuvers that might pair well with the planet’s atmosphere and topography, and then they’re off.

Lance shrugs off Blue’s concern as he plops into the pilot’s seat, insisting that he’s fine as he powers her up. The comms connect as more of them enter their lions, and then Lance can hear the familiar commotion in his helmet as well as his mind, the mental link enveloping them once they’re all settled.

“Ready, team?” Shiro says, and with agreements all around, they’re off.

Zertix isn’t exactly what Lance would call a formidable planet. It’s relatively small, and a good enough distance from the nearest star to guarantee that the surface will be cold. They approach fast, forgoing their usual waiting period wherein they connect with the planet’s communication system and inform them that they’re breaching the atmosphere.

This time, they just hurtle in, letting the G-force guide them towards the surface of the planet. Already, Lance can see the battle raging, explosions littering the land and smoke billowing into the atmosphere.

His first thought is Galra. The recon teams must have messed up, must have missed something. Maybe they were just watching the planet for ships going in or out when the Galra had already been here for a while.

But as they get closer, Lance can see that it’s not the Galra. None of their ships — be it the cruisers or the fighter jets — are to be seen anywhere. Nor is there any sort of Galra tech, actually. And in fact… Lance isn’t sure if there’s any technology at all.

“What is _that_?” Hunk demands, and Lance finds what he’s looking at with ease. This close to the surface, they can see the glowing, writhing masses — the creatures that Lance thought were explosions from afar. They certainly grow and expand like one, only to sink into the earth and erupt elsewhere, it looks like.

Coran patches through, his face displayed on the screen as they begin to slow their descent, each of them no doubt trying to figure out how to fight these things. People run among them on the ground, brandishing swords and the occasional laser gun, though Lance isn’t sure whether the creatures even notice their attacks.

“Those are _Schyckkquivi_ ,” Coran says, most unhelpfully. They all give him blank looks. He clears his throat. “Lava monsters,” he surmises.

“On this ice cold planet?” Pidge scoffs.

“Believe it or not, it’s the perfect climate for them,” Coran says. “The cool temperatures keep them from overheating. They spend most of their time burrowed underground, however.”

“That sounds great and all, but how do we get rid of them?” Keith interjects.

“Good question!” says Coran. “The blue lion’s ice ray should work, or otherwise Voltron’s sword. Whatever you do: _no lasers_. Any heat at all will only make them more powerful.”

“Oh, how I love a Lance-centered mission,” Lance says, already diving towards the nearest lava monster. The people fighting it back off quickly, looking thankful to see help in their skies, and Lance grabs for the right lever and pulls. That familiar icy feeling floods through him as he attacks the monster with ice, steam exploding into the air as it coats the monster. It lets out a roar that Lance can hear from within his lion, fire spurting from it and catching more of the city’s buildings aflame.

He watches with horror as the fires catch, not that many things hadn’t already been on fire beforehand. The monster disintegrates, but it does enough damage doing so that Lance can’t help feeling guilty.

“Maybe we should Voltron it up,” Hunk suggests feebly. Lance doesn’t speak, just flies back to the rest of the lions and gets in formation. If killing these things with swords is the way to avoid damaging these peoples’ lives any further, then he’s all for it. Lance-mission be damned.

As always, he feels infinitely more connected to his teammates as Voltron. Their mind-link strengthens, thoughts and intuitions flowing between them until they move like one. Thankfully, the sword really does put the monsters down with less of a fight, and the people of Zertix back off quickly, leaving the battle to them and getting out of harm’s way.

Either there weren’t that many of the lava monsters to begin with, or the creatures started to retreat back underground once they realized they were dying off, because it’s hardly a lengthy battle after that. Soon enough, they’re able to disband and land on the surface, exiting their lions to a crowd of people.

The citizens of Zertix are cheering, thanking Voltron for saving them and rushing forward to shake their hands. Lance does so sedately, distracted by the fires still burning.

The castle’s breaking through the atmosphere, coming to land near the lions so Allura can greet the king, so the conversations and alliances and compromises can be made. Lance’s gaze is drawn towards Keith. He’s standing as rigidly as Lance, though he softens considerably once a kid runs up to him and hugs his legs. He looks surprised for a moment, but then he drops to his knees, nodding intently and looking for all intents and purposes like this is the most important conversation he’s ever had.

“Princess Allura, we cannot thank you enough,” the king says, coming forward to grip Allura’s hands with his own.

“We were only doing our duty,” she says. “Please, let us help treat your wounded and control these fires before we commence with any meetings.”

With that, they’re put back to work, not that Lance minds. He’s all too willing to help put out the fires he helped spread, though he can’t help wishing Blue had a water gun as well as an ice ray. These buildings are already damaged enough that something as powerful as that is likely to make it collapse.

It’s long, hard work. This planet doesn’t have anything as advanced as firetrucks, though Lance thinks they probably should, considering some of the inhabitants they have. Still, he doesn’t complain. Just falls in with a group committed to dousing the fires, helping to collect vats of water and rush them to where they need to be.

Hunk’s helping with the injured, as is Shiro, though Keith and Pidge seem to be with another group fighting the fires. As the day progresses, Lance’s exhaustion begins to make itself known. None of them slept for very long last night, and on top of that, none of them have eaten since the previous night’s dinner, too.

Lance finds himself losing track of conversations, his smiles growing tighter whenever the Zertixians come to thank him. He’s just looking forward to this day being over, to when they can all return to the Castle-Ship and he can collapse in his bed.

By the time the fires are all out, the air’s still a smoky haze. Ashes flood the air with the wind, soot making Lance’s visor hazy and leaving black fingerprints on anything he touches. The progression is being led toward the center of the city, the king’s palace, and Lance lags behind the group. To his surprise, Keith drops back to walk with him.

“You look like you need this,” Keith says, holding out some kind of bar. Lance eyes it with surprise, reaching for it before he’s even comprehended that it’s food. “They were handing them out to the people being treated.”

“Thanks,” Lance says, lifting his visor and shoving half of the bar into his mouth with the first bite. He didn’t realize just how dirty his visor was before lifting it, and while he can certainly see more clearly now, it’s much harder to breathe.

Keith sticks by his side, which for some reason continues to surprise Lance. It’s not like he had much proof, considering they spent the day fighting and dealing with the aftermath, but he’d had the distinct feeling that Keith was avoiding him. While he’d enjoyed their talk last night, finding solace in it, it was clear that Keith hadn’t.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Keith says then, as if reading Lance’s mind.

He hums in response, his mouth still full of his breakfast-lunch-dinner.

“Last night… I should’ve stayed,” he says quietly, shooting Lance a furtive look. “I panicked. I don’t know why.”

“I mean, that prophecy’s enough to make anyone panic,” Lance says after swallowing his mouthful with difficulty. He realizes that the wrapper is empty and crumples it up in his fist, having no pockets to shove it in.

Keith sighs heavily. “Yeah, I know. But I guess it seems like you’ve been handling it better.”

“On the outside,” Lance jokes, and Keith huffs out a tiny laugh.

“We’re in this together,” he says. This time when he looks at Lance, he holds his gaze. And then he reaches up, drawing his sleeve down to reveal his wrist. There, emblazoned on his skin, is the number 28. The number that matches Lance’s own wrist.

Seeing it is just even more proof and Lance ends up smiling. He’s not alone.

“Keith, I swear we’ll figure this out,” Lance promises. He knocks his arm against Keith’s.

“Yeah, I know. I just wish I knew what it was counting down towards.”

Lance pauses. Frowns. They’re almost at the palace now, the streets no longer bearing signs of the attack, though the smoke and ashes follow them. They cover the whole city.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he says, huffing out a laugh.

“Is it?” says Keith. “I mean—" and then he starts speaking rhythmically, and it’s clear that he’s quoting something. A prophecy. “ _Your love draws near, but may fail to reach you. Don’t open up for just anyone_.” He scoffs. “That’s such bullshit.”

Lance feels dizzy. He can’t feel the ground beneath him, can’t feel his feet on the pavement, but he knows he’s still walking. Can see the building moving past him. Something tastes sour, rotten in his mouth. There’s a lump in his throat, and when Lance swallows, it doesn’t go down.

“Yeah,” he says weakly. “Bullshit.”

“But you think it’s obvious?” Keith continues, oblivious. “What it’s counting down to?”

“Oh, yeah,” Lance says, waving a hand flippantly. He feels like he’s watching himself from afar. Like it’s not even him talking to Keith. “Probably like, in twenty-eight days, you’ll — _we_ , we’ll either, uh. Find our love. Or not.”

“But don’t open for just anyone,” Keith says.

“Yep.”

“Bullshit,” Keith repeats, and Lance nods, but the two of them fall silent.

Lance isn’t sure whether this is better or not. Not a single distinct thought seems cemented in his head, pieces and fragments flying around in a panic. _Their prophecies are different._ Whatever’s going to happen to Keith in 28 days, it isn’t death. And he has no idea that Lance’s prophecy is different. And he’ll _never_ know, if Lance has anything to say about it.

But with this realization, Lance’s last hope is crushed. Now he knows, without a doubt, that his prophecy means _him_. There’s nothing ambiguous about it, no hidden meaning to be discerned.

He feels like the ash in the air. Aimless.

He floats without meaning, moving with a will that’s not his own. On a path he can’t control. He has absolutely no say in where he’s going to end up, and that knowledge tears him apart.

Somehow, accepting that he’s going to die is harder the second time. Icy fear grips his heart, and he’s not even aware as he climbs the stairs to the palace with the rest of the team. Doesn’t hear the echoing halls as they make their way towards the throne room. This might as well be the end. Might as well be the final march. The walls are white enough.

He knows he can’t just give up, though. Can’t check out. Voltron still needs him — will continue to need him, for the next 28 days. Hell, they’ll need him afterwards, too, not that he’ll be able to do anything about that.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why we sent you a distress call,” the king says, and Allura laughs. It certainly sounds like a joke. But the king just looks serious. Allura abruptly stops laughing.

“The _Schyckkquivi_ emerged much sooner than they should have,” the king continues. “It’s not mating season for them, so they should still be hibernating. Nonetheless, oddities like this have continued to happen ever since we lost my daughter to the Cave of Curiosities.”

“The what?” Allura says.

“The Cave of Curiosities,” the king reiterates. “Entry into the cave is strictly forbidden, especially for children. They have too much curiosity within them still, and given this, it’s impossible for them to find the exit on their own. Should they get close, a new wonder of the cave will expose itself.”

“And you believe she’s still alive in there?” Shiro asks, drawing attention to what is surely going to be asked of them.

The king nods solemnly. “Our kind can survive several weeks without food, but her end is nearing. All of our efforts to retrieve her have failed, and so I must beg you for help.” The next time he speaks, his voice is quieter, less booming and authoritative. Just pleading. “She’s my daughter,” he says. “I don’t know how I could go on without her.”

Allura’s expression softens. “I understand,” she says. “And if we retrieve her—”

“We’ll be in your debt, forever and always,” the king promises. “We’ll fight any battle, trade any good, just — please.”

The princess looks to the rest of them. Everyone’s expression is hardened. Determined.

“We’ll do it,” she says.

The king grins, but his smile quickly fades. “Although, I must implore,” he adds heavily, “that only one goes inside. The Cave has a mind of its own. The more that enter, the more Curiosities it will provide. I fear my daughter will be drawn deeper into its depths if you all go.”

At that, everyone looks uneasy. They’re used to doing dangerous missions, they do them all the time — but rarely alone. There’s strength in numbers, and even more strength in _their_ numbers. They’re a team, and a well-knit one at that. It’s rare that they would agree to something this risky, knowing that one of them would have to go it alone.

But, “I’ll do it,” Lance says. He can’t die for another 28 days anyway.


	5. “death is not the greatest loss in life. the greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.”

Lance stands at the entrance to the cave. He swears he can feel a breeze — it’s as if the cave is inhaling, trying to pull him in.

He wants to go.

The king had been ecstatic when Lance volunteered, though his team was much more subdued. They were all alarmed looks and worried whispers, but it was already too late. It wasn’t like Lance could take back what he’d said.

“Lance,” Allura says, her final attempt to sway him. “We can think of something else.” Night is falling quickly, the planet’s sun sinking over the horizon and marking the end of another day.

“It’s fine, Princess,” he says. “I’ll be in and out. You won’t even have time to miss me.” He avoids looking at the rest of his team. Their looks of concern are starting to freak him out, and he’d rather not walking into this historically deadly cave with their fear weighing on his mind.

The king hurries forward, apparently done talking to his advisors, and he grips Lance’s hand in a hearty shake. “Remember, Paladin,” he says gravely. “The Cave will try to lure you deeper. Now more than ever, you must ignore your curiosity. Remember your team and your mission.”

Lance nods. “I’ll have her out in no time,” he promises, and the king’s eyes water with gratitude. He claps Lance on the shoulder and Lance takes a purposeful step forward. Without his permission, his head swivels over his shoulder, and he gives his team a quick smile before descending into the darkness. Keith’s expression stands out in his mind, his downturned mouth seeming to linger in his vision as the cave swallows him.

Immediately, the sounds of everything outside the cave are cut off. He can’t hear their voices, none of those atmospheric sounds he wasn’t aware of until they were suddenly silenced. He doesn’t dare turn back around, afraid that the entrance will be missing, so he continues forward resolutely.

“Celafait?” Lance calls, the name of the king’s daughter. She doesn’t call back, though Lance hardly expected her to. If she were still this close to the surface, she would’ve been able to her way out by now.

The cave slants downward, leading Lance deeper with every step, and as the tunnel curves around a turn, the smell of the cave changes. No longer is he surrounded by the damp, earthy muskiness of the cave. No — he smells salt. The smell of the sea on a gentle breeze.

Interest piqued, Lance hurries forward. He swears he can hear the ocean. Waves crashing against a distant shore, followed by the excited shouts of children running through the wet sand.

Lance’s heart starts to beat faster. He can’t lie and say that living in space has been easy for him. At first, it was the most exciting thing he could have ever imagined. _Him_ , Lance McClain — a normal guy who suddenly had the fate of the universe in his hands. It was nerve-wracking, sure, but it was also _insanely awesome_.

Growing up in a big family, it always felt hard to get noticed. He’d gotten good grades on his report card, but his older sister had just won the Spelling Bee. He’d landed his first wave, managing to stand on his surfboard and not fall off the entire time — but his brother had just come in second in the surfing competition. No matter how much Lance struggled to get noticed, he was always surrounded by the rest of his family’s achievements.

So he’d been ecstatic about being a Paladin of Voltron. It felt like all the attention he’d ever wanted, handed to him with a big bow on top.

Except none of his family had been there to see it. All of the people he wanted to notice his accomplishments were still back on Earth, probably mourning his death.

After that, the homesickness had come. The realization that this wasn’t a game, it was _war_ , and his life was on the line. The knowledge that until all was said and done, until the Galra were no longer an impeding threat on the freedom of everyone in galaxy, he wouldn’t get to see his family again. That he might die before he even got the chance.

Space and the war had become his job. His life. Over the past years, Lance has changed so much. Sometimes he wonders whether his family would even recognize him, given the chance that he got to see them again. He was still the same, deep down — he cracked jokes constantly, valued his friends above all else, would use his humor as a shield in battle if it were possible. But he was also battle-hardened. He could flip from joking to serious in a heartbeat. He had blood on his hands — thousands of Galra lives having fallen prey to his gun or his lion’s lasers. People who had grown up in the empire. Maybe soldiers who’d never even had a choice. He’ll never know.

But still, after all this time, despite all the scars the healing pods couldn’t quite erase, he still dreamed of the beach. Of his family’s little house on the coast. Of the midnight swims he’d sneak out of the house to have, his mother’s warnings about the water at night willfully ignored.

He couldn’t remember exactly how the sand felt under his bare feet, nor what the water felt like as it rushed back into the ocean, sand and shells rushing past his ankles — but he remembered the smell.

And it smelled exactly like this.

Lance doesn’t realize he’s running until he comes to a skidding stop, the ocean spread out before him as clearly as it is in his dreams. The waves sparkle in the midday sun, the crash of the ocean deafening and exhilarating. At that moment, he forgets that he’s inside a cave at all.

Children shrieking draw his attention and Lance’s gaze locks onto two little kids, their bare feet slapping on the wet, darkened sand.

“Slow down, Miguel!” Lacy cries. His niece and nephew.

Miguel bends down and scoops up a seashell, exclaiming in excitement as he rushes back to his sister. The two of them bend over the discovery seriously, and Lacy opens her palm, likely revealing her own finds. The two children exchanged shells — Miguel the one he’d just found, and Lacy one of the ones she’d been holding onto — and they shake hands like it’s a business deal.

Lance is grinning. Something slides down his cheek — hot and wet — and Lance wipes it away impatiently.

Suddenly, Lacy turns to look at him. “Uncle Lance!” she calls, beckoning him forward. Everything inside Lance wants to take another step forward. His arms even swing a little, as if already starting to walk without his feet having gotten the memo yet. But despite this, his legs stayed locked in place, his feet planted on the hard ground, just a step away from the hot sand.

He knows, in his heart of hearts, that his little niece and nephew aren’t this little anymore. Time doesn’t work exactly the same in space — a tic is longer than a second, a varga longer than an hour, and a deca-phoeb longer than a year. Those little kids that he adores so much aren’t little kids anymore. He knows that.

So it’s with his heart in his throat that he turns his back on them. Just like that, the sounds of the waves disappear. He can smell the cave again — damp and musty — but a hint of that ocean breeze lingers. A broken, aborted sob escapes Lance from somewhere deep inside of him, but he pushes it away.

Now isn’t the time. And it’ll never be the time.

He wrenches his sleeve down, peering down at his wrist in the darkness, and sees the number 27. So it’s after midnight then. He’s been down here for hours, even if it hasn’t felt that long.

“Don’t get curious,” Lance tells himself, shaking his head, and he continues on. The ground has leveled out now, though he knows, deep down, that if he’d gone to that beach he might have never come out.

For a while, the cave is quiet. Normal. But then his comm system connects, the distinct crackle of it noticeable in his ear.

Lance frowns. Pidge said their comms wouldn’t work while Lance was under, that the cave radiated an energy of its own that disrupted them, but she must’ve been wrong.

“Hello?” Lance says, his footsteps slowing.

“Lance!” It’s Keith who says it. He sounds relieved, like he’s been trying to contact Lance for a while, and Lance can’t help his instinctual smile.

“Hey man,” Lance says. “Everything still good up there?”

“I don’t know,” Keith says. “You were taking so long that the king asked another one of us to go in. I volunteered.”

Lance stumbles. “ _What_?” he says. “Keith — go back. You know the Cave gets more intense with the more people in it. The king said so.”

“I can’t,” Keith says. “I tried to turn back after I started hearing my dad, but I can’t find the exit. I’m scared, Lance.”

“I heard my family too,” Lance admits, quieter. “Just stay put, okay? I’m gonna find Celefait and then I’ll find you. Don’t go anywhere.”

“Lance!” Keith says again, but this time it’s closer. The cave forks, and Lance can see Keith on the right side of the fork. He looks excited to see him, and he leans against the wall in relief. “Oh, thank God,” he says.

“This makes my job ten times easier,” Lance says, huffing out a laugh. “Come on, we can find her together.”

Keith shakes his head. “We need to go this way first,” he says. “That seer is here — she’s in the cave.”

“No, Keith — she’s not,” Lance says. “It’s just the Cave. It’s tricking you.”

“She promised to explain the prophecy if you came with me,” Keith says, sounding desperate now. “Don’t you want to know what it means?”

“Of course, I do,” Lance whispers. “But she isn’t down there. Not really.”

“She says you won’t die, Lance,” Keith says, and he takes a step backward. Alarm bells go off in Lance’s head.

Keith doesn’t know he’s going to die.

But… he looks so real. He sounds just like Keith.

“Please, Lance,” Keith says. “I don’t want you to die either. Don’t you want to know what the prophecy means?” he repeats.

“No,” Lance lies. “I’m not curious.”

And he turns away from Keith, his heart screaming at him to go back as he takes the left side of the fork. The ground seems even, but he bets the path behind Keith sloped downward even more.

It feels like hours pass before he finds Celafait. Other distractions make themselves known to him — he finds a cell phone with his mother’s number on it and later what looks like a Yellow Pages, but the front cover just says ‘HOW IT ENDS.’ Lance is curious, he can’t help it, but he ignores them anyway. He’s only now realizing that just because he has twenty-seven days left doesn’t mean he won’t spend them all in here.

When he finds Celafait, she’s crouching at the edge of a mirror-pool. Her hand hovers above the water, like she wants to touch whatever she sees. Lance bets all the gac he has (admittedly, not very much) that whatever she’s seeing isn’t her reflection.

“Celafait,” he says, and the girl’s head whips towards him. She looks to be about seven. Her hair is dirty and hanging loose around her face, which is streaked with dirt. Her feet are bare and she wears a white dress, which, curiously, has no dirt on it at all.

“Who are you?” she says abruptly, in that inadvertently rude manner of speaking all children have.

“I’m Lance,” Lance says. “I’m a Paladin of Voltron. Your dad sent me.”

“You’re just another trick,” Celafait decides, and Lance shakes his head.

“I’m not,” he says. “The Cave is all-knowing, but I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know what you want.”

Celafait straightens, her arms crossing over her chest as she analyzes Lance.

“The Cave isn’t dangerous, you know,” she says firmly. “All the adults are scared of it, but that’s just because they’re not curious about anything anymore. When they come in here, the Cave shows them nothing at all. That’s what scares them.”

“You’re pretty smart,” Lance says, wondering if this is true. He holds out a hand, and Celafait — deciding for whatever reason that Lance is trustworthy — takes it. “Even if you’re not scared, is it okay if we leave now? I don’t want to be stuck down here forever.”

“Yes,” Celafait decides. “I’m getting pretty hungry anyway. The Cave doesn’t provide food.”

“A shame,” Lance jokes, and Celafait nods importantly.

Together, they begin the trek back, and though Lance didn’t notice it as much going down, he can tell that the ground is sloping upward now.

“I’m surprised you got this far,” Celafait admits. “The Cave doesn’t show all its paths for just anyone.”

“I guess I’m a curious adult, then.”

“Or you haven’t grown up yet,” Celafait says matter-of-factly. Lance doesn’t know what exactly to make of that.

A few times on the journey back, Lance gets distracted. The Cave doesn’t seem enthused to see them go. Multiple times, Lance sees things that makes him want to turn back, but Celafait just grabs his hand a little tighter and continues to march them along.

“I can’t believe you haven’t wanted to turn around,” Lance says weakly, after Celafait successfully distracts him from the Cave for the third time — this time from an elixir of life.

“I still have a lot of time left,” she says, and Lance doesn’t know whether she means because he’s so much older than her or because he’s going to die soon. “Is there a reason you think you’re going to die?”

Lance chokes on his spit, and once his coughing fit ends she’s still just staring at him patiently. “Um. A prophecy,” he admits, and Celafait hums, as if this isn’t alarming news. It probably isn’t, to her. He’s just a stranger. And maybe she’s still too young to really understand what death means.

“Death isn’t the greatest loss in life,” she says sagely. “It’s what dies inside us while we live.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. So just don’t let it die. Don’t grow up.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“Did you know we have other Caves on our planet?” Celafait says earnestly. “The Cave of Hope. The Cave of Trust.”

“Sort of a theme, you’ve got going on there.”

“The adults are scared of all of them,” Celafait informs him. “They say that too much of anything is a bad thing, but I think they’re wrong. Like, I could eat a million junepeppers and be _fine_. They’re my favorite candy.”

“I’m sure you could,” Lance says, laughing, but he thinks she might have a point there.

Without curiosity, Lance never would’ve reached out to touch the shield surrounding Blue. Without hope, the rebellion never would’ve lasted this long. And without trust, Lance’s teammates never would’ve let him enter this cave on his own.

Maybe he should trust that he really doesn’t know everything about his prophecy. Maybe he should hope that his days aren’t as numbered as he’s been led to believe.

Just then, a light makes itself visible. The Cave’s exit is within reach, and Lance exchanges an excited look with Celafait before they both race towards the exit, bursting out into the light and to immediate jubilation.

The king runs forward and whirls his daughter into the air, hugging her as he spins her around. And Lance’s team descends on him, surrounded him and talking all at once, asking questions and reaching out to touch him and pull him into hugs.

Unbidden, Lance’s eyes find Keith, who’s grinning unrestrained. A little part of Lance untwists. He didn’t realize that he was secretly afraid that that apparition might’ve really been real until he sees Keith now, safe and perfectly unharmed outside the Cave.


	6. anonymous

Like many planets are wont to do, the people of Zertix throw a celebration in the name of Voltron’s success. There will be food and drinks and dancing and it seems like everyone is invited, the perfect pick-me-up after the devastation of the fires and the stress of the missing princess.

Lance doesn’t feel much like celebrating — it’s been forever since he’s slept, and he has a lot on his mind — but he doesn’t want to be rude. Plus, he’s starving anyway.

The party kicks off the moment they step back into the palace, live music greeting them along with servers already rushing around with trays of food and drink. Lance snags something to eat before slinking off to a corner, wanting nothing more than some peace and quiet.

No one around them is dressed in party attire. They themselves are still wearing their Paladin armor, and the rest of the party’s attendance can be found in whatever clothes they spent yesterday in, many adorned with soot and scorch marks.

It’s late. A few more hours and Lance will have been up for two days straight. He sinks down against the wall, utterly exhausted, and sits on the ground, hoping no one will bother him.

He does his sweep.

Hunk is talking to two women, smiling softly and gesturing while he talks. Definitely involved in some polite conversation, maybe about the planet’s rebuilding efforts, maybe about its insane cave systems.

Lance scans the party, finding Shiro next. He must be as tired as Lance is, but he doesn’t show it. He stands tall and proud, a drink in his hand which looks untouched.

Allura and Coran are talking, enveloped in a conversation with the king and a few of his delegates. The princess clings to his arm, stuffing a pastry in her mouth with her other hand. Lance smiles faintly.

Next is Pidge, who Lance finds leaning tiredly against a pillar. Her head jerks up every few minutes, as if she’s falling asleep involuntarily.

And then…

Where’s Keith?

Not by the table with food. Certainly not in the crowd of dancers. He can’t see him along any of the walls, and he can’t imagine he would’ve slipped away from the party entirely…

“Hey.”

Lance jerks, looking up to find Keith standing right beside him, two drinks in hand. He slides down the wall, coming to sit next to Lance and handing him one of the glasses.

Keith makes six, and Lance makes seven.

“Hey,” Lance responds, and he grabs the glass and takes a sip, surprised by its sweetness. He’s not sure it’s even alcohol, which is probably a good thing.

“I don’t think Allura will make us stay long,” Keith says. “She knows we’re all tired.”

“Here’s hoping,” Lance sighs, and he slumps against the wall a little more. His arm presses against Keith, and he can barely feel him through their armor — certainly can’t feel the heat of him — but his arm tingles anyway, not getting the hint.

It’s not fair. Not just that Lance is going to die ( _or not_ , a stubborn part of him says. The part that’s still child-like, still hopeful) but that Keith has a stupid prophecy too. If Lance had never heard his own prophecy, he would think that Keith’s was the worst thing he’s ever heard.

_Your love draws near_   
_But may fail to reach you_   
_Don’t open up for just anyone_

As if Keith needed to hear that shit. He’s already just about the most closed-off person you’ll ever meet. It took the team forever to even be _friends_ with him.

God, for so long, Keith was this distant, stoic, stand-offish _enigma_ among the team. Of course, they all cared about him — they were a team, and they had a bond, a connection (just. Only when they were in their lions. Or otherwise fighting) — but there was no denying that it was hard to even talk to him the rest of the time.

Before Voltron, Keith had never had a lot of friends.

He’d told them this later, of course. But his dad died when he was still young, and of course his mom is an alien, off in space somewhere, so there was no one left to take care of him. Keith, being the moody little bastard that he is, had a hard time sticking with one foster family.

Keith didn’t say it exactly like this, but he was totally a troublemaker. He told Lance about this one time when he set the couch on fire because his foster parents had been ignoring him all day. It’s not really all that funny, actually, but Keith was able to laugh about it in hindsight. When he was telling the story to Lance, at least.

But for his childhood years, he was all over the place. He couldn’t even recall how many states he’d lived in, which just made Lance’s heart pang. He’d lived in the same place all his life, before the Garrison. He couldn’t even imagine how hard it would be, living with strangers all the time, going to schools where you knew nobody, not having any adults to depend on.

That was Keith’s life. He got into the Garrison on a scholarship and excelled. He doesn’t really seem the type — much too bad-boy-esque, the kind of guy you’d expect to see driving a motorcycle to school and making spitballs in detention — but he actually had really good grades. Said he learned the same stuff a lot of times, moving around, with the overlapping curriculums all the schools had.

Anyway, he was one of the youngest in Garrison history. Also, probably one of the youngest to be kicked out, which sucks. But Shiro still visited him in that shack he lived in whenever he was able. Keith thinks he got away with finding an abandoned shack and living in it, but Lance is pretty sure Shiro pulled some strings there for him. He was probably renting the damn thing.

It’s so funny, looking back. Lance hated Keith’s guts. He was so stupidly jealous of him, thinking he had it made, with his good grades and all that attention from Shiro, the _legend_.

And when they’d first gone out in space, Lance’s opinion of him had been the same. Stuff like that doesn’t really change overnight. But he’d had the completely wrong impression of him. Like, he thought he was arrogant, not smart. Domineering, not helpful. Cold, not shy. (Oh yeah, Keith was totally shy. Most people probably can’t tell, but he’s a way different kind of quiet around strangers. He’s less relaxed, if you can believe it.)

It took forever for Keith to learn to loosen up around them. To not feel like he was eavesdropping when he accidentally laughed at one of their jokes. To not feel like he was intruding when they were all hanging out together.

Lance remembers the first time Keith joined them without having to be invited. After Lance had gotten over himself and accepted the fact that they were all a team and were going to have to get along, he’d made the effort to include Keith.

Stuff like, “Hey, Keith, Allura’s gonna put on this Altean romcom. It has no subtitles and apparently it got a rating of 100. That’s out of 20,000, by the way. You in?”

Or, “Hey man, Pidge snagged alcohol at the space mall. We don’t know if Shiro and Allura will let us drink so we’re gonna do it in secret in my room anyway. Wanna join?”

And once, “Pidge and Hunk pranked me and I’m gonna get revenge. Help me plan it?”

But eventually, Lance didn’t have to invite Keith anymore. He just came to understand that he had a standing invitation. That he didn’t have to wait for someone to knock on his door.

That was probably around the time that Lance started falling in love with him.

Yeah, shocker, right? But Lance has always been a hopeless romantic. And what’s more romantic than two dudes stranded in space (with all of their friends, and also technically not stranded) who once hated each other (kind of one-way, but whatever) only to end up falling in love?

It was the kind of thing Lance fantasized about. The kind of thing he would devour in a romance novel. It was also the kind of thing that was totally never going to happen to him. Keith wasn’t interested in him like that, so it was pointless to even think about.

…Not that knowing that really did much to stop his pining. He’d tried to control it for a long time. Tried to distract himself. But it was impossible.

Keith was always _there_. And he was… God. He was everything Lance wanted. Everything about him endeared Lance, no matter how small. No matter how weirdly specific.

Like, he was thoughtful in his own way?

A few years ago, not too long after they first gotten to space, Lance was having horrible nightmares. He’d barely slept more than an hour or two a night and it was showing. In his appearance, in his attention span, in his fighting. He’d tried to brush off his friends’ concern, but it was Keith who got through to him one night.

“Here,” he’d said, holding out a knife.

Lance had stood there, pursing his lips. “Are you going to stab me?”

Keith had scoffed. He’d shifted from one foot to the other, looking irritated. “No,” he’d said. “It’s to put under you pillow. It’ll make you feel safer, knowing you can defend yourself.”

Lance had slept pretty easily after that.

Anyway, Lance has a theory, nowadays. It’s not all the little things about a person that make you fall in love with them — it’s after falling in love with them that you realize you love all those little things about them.

He’s pretty sure, before he realized he was in love with Keith and had a panic attack about it for three straight days, that he never found the exact pitch and tone of his voice incredibly attractive. Pretty sure he wasn’t endeared with the twist of his mouth when he didn’t agree with something but wasn’t about to argue about it.

Before he was in love with Keith, he didn’t notice how he could fight equally well with both hands. Didn’t notice how he always patted the side of Red’s maw before entering his lion, or how when he was standing stoically, his arms crossed over his chest, the heel of his left foot would tap. Just a little bit.

But now, Lance notices these things. Completely unconsciously too. He just becomes aware of himself, realizing that he’s staring at Keith, realizing that his heart’s been turned into a gooey pile of mush.

And it’s absolutely, incredibly, viciously not fair that Keith got some bullshit prophecy advising him _not_ to fall in love.

“Oh, look at that,” Keith murmurs, and Lance blinks, realizing that he zoned out completely. He has no idea how long they’ve been sitting here. No idea how much time has passed since he started thinking about Keith.

He follows Keith’s gaze, finding a man drawing Allura’s hand to his mouth, which he presses a kiss against. Allura’s smile is small and tight.

Lance snorts. “Someone should save her,” he says.

“That’s all you,” says Keith.

Lance groans. “Are you sure? ‘Cause I hear some people think you’d be the _perfect_ knight in shining armor.”

“Yeah, I’m sure many people think that,” Keith says sarcastically. “Go on. Maybe she’ll be so grateful she’ll decide it’s time to leave.”

“Keith, you are a selfish man,” Lance says, but he stands, making his way deftly through the crowd and stopping by Allura’s side. He slides an arm around her waist.

Allura stiffens, her eyes slitting as she turns her glare on him, before realizing who he is. “Oh, Lance!” she says, sounding relieved.

“Hey, honey,” Lance says. The man that’d been kissing her hand a minute ago takes a step back, looking mortified. “Thought you might like a drink.”

“You’re too sweet,” Allura says. She’s wearing a genuine smile now.

“Anytime,” Lance says, and he kisses her on the cheek. The man has already slinked away, and Allura snorts into the glass as she takes a sip.

“You didn’t have to kiss me,” she points out.

“Allura,” Lance says seriously. “I have always, and will always, be a flirt. You can’t change my nature.”

“And for that, I thank you,” Allura says. “What do you say? Think we should get this show on the road?”

Lance grins. “Oh, how I love when you use Earth slang.”

After that, they make quick work of gathering the team. The king is sad to see them go, but grateful that they stayed so long. He promises them assistance is any endeavor, at any time, and they thank him graciously. Lance falls into step at the back of the progression with Keith, bumping his shoulder against him.

“You were right,” he says. “I didn’t even have to suggest we leave — she did it herself.”

“It was the kiss,” Keith jokes, and he slurs a little. “You seduced her.”

Lance laughs. “I’m a simple man, Keith,” he says. “I see a cheek, I kiss it. You better activate your visor.”

Keith snorts, shoving Lance so he stumbles to the side, but he comes right back to stand next to Keith again, who immediately leans against him as they walk. “Jesus,” he says lowly. “You know, I think those drinks might’ve actually had alcohol in them.”

Lance frowns, concerned. “I gave Allura mine,” he mutters, just as Allura bursts out laughing ahead of them, throwing her arm around Pidge’s shoulders.

Keith and Lance immediately exchange looks, and then Keith snorts, and Lance’s mouth drops open, because he’s never heard Keith snort before — and Keith’s hand is over his mouth, like he can’t believe it either — and then they’re both giggling, Keith gasping for breath at the end of it.

“I’m g’na have to put Red on autopilot,” he mutters.

“Do our lions have autopilot?” Lance says, frowning, and Keith just shrugs.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says.

Thankfully, they all make it back to the Castle okay. The lions don’t have autopilot, per se, but they are sentient. Red probably did end up helping him with the controls.

Everyone is quick to say goodnight, exhaustion weighing heavily on all of them, and Keith and Lance head off in the same direction, toward their rooms. At one point, Keith stumbles, and Lance catches him.

“How many of those things did you have to drink?” he says incredulously.

“Just two!” Keith says, looking at him with wide eyes. “Those people are fucking insane! Putting that much alcohol in their drinks…”

“We’ll write a strongly worded letter,” Lance jokes.

“Yeah,” Keith says, shaking his head. “Maybe — _maybe_ — call ‘em a bitch.”

Lance decides to help Keith get ready for bed, honestly not confident that he’s capable on his own, and Keith changes out of his armor and into his pajamas. He stares down at his wrist.

“Only twenty-six days,” he says. Lance stomach flips.

“’Til what?” he says uneasily, remember that Keith from the cave who knew he was going to die.

“’Til we can kiss,” Keith says matter-of-factly. And then, as if that wasn’t ground-breaking news: “G’night, Lance.”

“Night,” Lance mutters, just staring at Keith. He’s curled up in a little ball.

Lance can’t believe Keith wants to kiss him. He doubly can’t believe that he’s not going to be alive to experience it.

He steps forward. Not thinking, just doing. He brushes Keith’s hair behind his ear, and Keith sighs through his mouth. Lance presses his lips to Keith’s cheek, his skin soft and warm, and straightens up. Keith has the tiniest of smiles on his face.

“I love you,” Lance tells him, his voice barely audible. Because here, he’s safe to do so. Here, with Keith asleep, he’s anonymous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> keith: hey  
> lance, for 1.2k words: i am in love with this man and every little thing about him


	7. lone wolf

After the whole fiasco of Zertix, everyone sleeps for hours. Lance wakes sometime around lunchtime, devours three helpings of what’s been left out, and traipses back to bed. That whole day, he only sees two people, and that’s Allura when he ventures into the rec room to steal a data pad and Pidge when he sneaks into the kitchen for a midnight snack.

Given the day of rest, the following one is much more likely to actually be productive. Everyone’s present at breakfast, which is a good sign, and they even train for an hour together without complaint. Keith is a little quieter and more standoffish than usual, but it can be hard to tell what kind of mood he’s in when he gets like this. Lance just gives him his space, figuring he needs it.

In all honesty, he’s probably worrying about the prophecy. They’re in this together, whether they actually have the same fate or not. Guilt eats away at Lance, knowing that Keith thinks they were given the same prophecy, but he’s convinced he’s doing the right thing, keeping this from him.

“Hey,” someone says, and Lance shrieks. They’re all in the showers after training, and Lance can hear Shiro singing softly a couple stalls down, and what sounds like Hunk humming along. It’s a rare day that this happens, because usually they’re all on different schedules. Some people wait to shower until the end of the day, others go to their room and shower there. But occasionally, when everyone’s schedules line up, they all end up sharing the communal bathroom.

Lance won’t lie, it’s definitely ended in a karaoke party of sorts before. Usually resulting with someone slipping and hurting themselves.

On more than one occasion, that person has been Lance.

Pidge, however, is peeping over the top of the wall between her and Lance’s stalls.

“Do you _mind_?” Lance hisses at her.

“Not at all,” she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes when Lance glares at her.

Lance has probably seen his entire team naked, thanks to circumstances beyond his control, usually including rushing his near-death friends off to the pods and putting them into the cryosuits for grievous injuries. He’s never been peeped on in the showers before, though.

“Keith’s acting weird,” Pidge says, gesturing with her head. Lance peeks outside the curtain, finding Keith already dressed and done with his shower. He slips out of the room without a word.

Lance frowns. You wouldn’t think it, knowing Keith and his entire personality in general, but he always takes the longest showers. Lance is pretty sure he didn’t have hot water back in that desert shack, nor the luxury of long showers either in foster care or at the Garrison. He doesn’t think he ever got over the novelty of the Castle-Ship and their ability to bathe for however long they wanted.

“Okay, that is weird,” Lance admits.

“Do you know what’s going on with him?”

“Why would I know?”

Pidge scoffs. “I may be the nosiest on the team, but you’re the most observant. Especially when it comes to Keith.”

“Can we continue this conversation after I shower?”

“What else is there to say?” Pidge says, before hopping down. Lance finishes up quickly after that, figuring she’s right.

What’s weird is that Keith hasn’t been acting like this since he got his prophecy — just today. So what new development happened to make him start acting like this?

Maybe it’s just settled in for him that Lance has the “same” prophecy. There wasn’t really much time to discuss it, back on Zertix. Maybe his mind’s running wild and he’s bottling it up instead of talking to Lance, the one person who can (supposedly) relate.

Lance decides to talk to him. Keith shouldn’t have to deal with tormenting thoughts on his own.

He checks the bay first, but Keith’s nowhere to be found, and Red doesn’t look active. He’s not in the bridge nor in the rec room, and Lance even checks the kitchen in a last ditch attempt, but he’s not there.

And if Keith’s nowhere to be found, then that means he’s probably locked up in his room. A clear signal of _leave me alone._

Well. Lance has never been too good at picking up on signals.

He walks the familiar path to their rooms, turning to face Keith’s door instead of his own before knocking on it hesitantly.

“What?” Keith snaps from behind it, and Lance grins in triumph. Found him.

“Can I come in?” Lance says, and there’s a long pause before Keith answers.

“Fine,” he says, and the door slides open.

Keith’s laying on his bed, one of their data pads propped up in his lap. The next time they go to a space mall, Lance is going to find him a real book. One actually meant to be read in English, hopefully.

Lance has only been in Keith’s room a handful of times, and he was never one to linger. Now, though, he takes a careful look around the place. On his bedside table, Keith keeps random trinkets. Most of them evidence of different missions. There’s a glowing rock from that nocturnal planet, where its people had avoided the sun like it would burn them. And there’s a pretty sizeable crystal from the Balmera, perched next to a tiny plant that Keith probably picked up from a space mall. It sways in its pot despite there being no breeze.

And on the wall next to Keith, there’s a series of pictures. One of the whole team, where a planet’s emperor had thanked them profusely and insisted on a picture for his people to remember them by. It’s the first picture they ever took together, and looking back on it, they all look so young. Lance never knew that Keith had managed to get a copy of that picture.

There they stand, significantly less battered and scarred than they are now. Allura stands in the middle, looking kind of awkward as she smiles. Shiro’s gone for a stoic face, likely too used to the Garrison’s type of no-nonsense pictures. Hunk’s grinning genuinely, and Pidge has a pair of bunny ears over his head. Coran, looking at Pidge in the picture, is imitating her, looking both confused and delighted. Lance has his arms around Pidge’s and Keith’s shoulders, and Keith stands with his arms crossed, looking uncomfortable.

There are other pictures as well. Ones that Coran had taken, after insisting on buying a camera after that first picture was taken. There’s one that’s completely out of focus of all of them, Coran’s forehead the only part that’s not blurry as he tries to take it like a selfie. There’s another of Keith and Shiro, and though they’re both doing that stoic military face, Keith is giving Shiro bunny ears.

There’s one of Lance, Hunk, and Pidge, each wearing facemasks and robes and slippers. No one else had participated in their Pajama Day, the losers. Lance never realized someone took their picture that day.

There’s also that strip from a space mall’s photobooth. He, Hunk, and Pidge are squeezed into the booth. The first picture is the three of them making funny faces. In the second, Hunk and Pidge are pretending to cry, but Lance is blurry, reaching for something outside the booth. In the third, Keith’s been tugged into the frame, looking disgruntled and alarmed. In the fourth, he's laughing with the rest of them, though Lance can’t remember for the life of him what he said to make everyone laugh.

Finally, Lance looks back to Keith. He looks soft. His hair’s still damp from the shower and he’s not dressed in his usual attire, instead wearing a red t-shirt and blue pajama pants. Lance wants nothing more than to crawl into his bed with him. To cuddle up beside him and take a nap.

He pulls himself together.

“I just wanted to check on you,” he admits. “I noticed that you’d been acting kind of distant and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Keith’s expression softens. If Lance had to describe it in one word, it’d be _gooey_. Except he looks sad, too. And he looks away from Lance before clearing his throat.

“I’m fine,” he says.

“Are you sure? ‘Cause you can tell me anything, dude.”

“Thanks,” Keith says, sounding sincere. “But I really am fine. Just tired.”

Lance is the _king_ of “just tired.” He knows Keith’s hiding something, but it’s obvious he doesn’t want to talk about it. So he leaves him alone.

Both lunch and dinner pass without Keith gracing them with his presence, which is when Lance really starts to get concerned. He’s been chilling in the rec room since dinner, knowing Keith will have to pass by it whenever he decides to get food, but it gets to the point where Lance grows even more worried, and he decides to bring Keith something to eat himself.

He grabs a big bundle of food, seeing as he’s not sure whether Keith even bothered to eat since breakfast, but it’s as he’s grabbing the last space-bread roll that he hears footsteps. He straightens up, thinking Keith’s about to walk into the kitchen, but he’s wrong.

It is Keith, but he walks straight past it, in such a hurry that he doesn’t even see Lance. He has a bag slung over his shoulder.

Still holding the food, Lance hurries after him, though keeping a good enough distance between them that Keith isn’t likely to notice him. Not with how distracted he is.

With growing concern, Lance follows him all the way down to the bay. Keith turns away from the lions, towards the pods, and that’s when Lance can’t take it anymore.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he says. His voice is quiet, but Keith still jumps like he shouted. He whirls around, his hand clenching the strap of his bag.

“Lance,” he says.

“You’re leaving,” Lance says, because he feels like he has to state the obvious. Feels like Keith will try to deny it otherwise.

Keith shifts on his feet, looking like a cornered animal. “Just for a little while,” he says. “It’s not forever.”

“How long is a little while?” Lance asks. His voice breaks on the word ‘long,’ but neither of them acknowledges it.

“I don’t know,” Keith says. “Maybe until the countdown runs out. I just need some time.”

“Don’t,” Lance says. “Just — don’t do this.”

“It won’t be for long,” Keith promises. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you soon.”

Except he won’t. Not if he really does wait until the timer runs out.

But Keith’s not willing to hear any more arguments. He throws his bag into the pod and swings himself in after it, giving Lance an abrupt wave before booting it up.

Lance hurries forward. “Wait!” he says, and mercifully, Keith does. He opens the door and Lance presses the bundle of food into his hands. “You know none of them will stand for this,” he says quietly. “Tomorrow, we’ll all be out there, looking for you.”

Keith sighs. “I know,” he says.

“Just get it out of your system,” Lance says. “Come back before they notice you’re gone.”

Keith looks away, and Lance has a feeling that won’t be the case.

He doesn’t know why Keith is running away. Why he refuses to talk about whatever’s troubling him. But tomorrow, Lance is going to be the one to find Keith. Whether or not he intends to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think this is the first chapter where i didn't out-right say the phrase of the prompt, but i still think it's pretty obvious! this one was a lot of fun to write (as was tomorrow's chapter!)
> 
> hope you all had a great day!!!


	8. stitches

Twenty-four days. Twenty-four days left, and Keith is gone.

Waking up, Lance wonders whether he should’ve tried harder to prevent Keith from leaving, except knowing Keith, that just would’ve made him want to leave even more. Would’ve made the entire ordeal more difficult.

Best-case scenario, Keith got whatever this is out of his system during the night and is already back and sitting with the rest of their friends at breakfast. Worst-case scenario, Keith does a spectacular job of hiding himself away and doesn’t come back until their count-down runs out, in which case Lance will never see him again.

Really, Lance doesn’t mind for settling for something in between. Not wanting to be suspicious, he waits until someone voices their concern over Keith’s missing presence at breakfast, at which point he offers to check Keith’s room. He really does check, in case Keith happened to come back in the night and is now sleeping to make up for the hours he lost, but he’s not in his room. He participates in the wild search around the castle, already knowing that none of them are going to find Keith, and ends up being the first to suggest they leave to look for him, after pointing out that a pod is missing.

Everyone’s a mixture of angry and worried, though Lance doesn’t have the energy to be angry right now. He knows the stress that a prophecy can cause, though he wouldn’t mind knowing what development led to Keith stressing this much over it. He didn’t think Keith would remember mentioning that he wanted to kiss Lance, considering the state of his sobriety, but maybe he does remember. Maybe, thinking his prophecy described Lance, he panicked.

And God, maybe the prophecy _does_ mean Lance. Who worse to “open up” for than someone on their deathbed? Someone who will be gone within the month?

For Lance, the number on his wrist indicates how long he has left to live. But maybe for Keith, it’s counting down until he can safely love someone who’ll actually be available to him.

The revelation is almost too much to handle. Just thinking about it, about the _idea_ that Keith might be afraid of falling in love with him. That Lance could even be an _option_.

It’s as exciting as it is heartbreaking.

He feels like he’s watching from outside of his own body as they continue with the process of trying to find Keith. When Allura puts in the tracking information for the pod Keith stole, nothing comes up. That means Keith had the foresight to disconnect its tracking system, though of course, he’s no match for Pidge. She gets to work right away, doing all that creepy hacker shit that she’s good at, but she reveals that the information doesn’t seem to be entirely accurate.

“It says he’s just sitting out in the middle of space, which doesn’t seem right,” she says, analyzing the tracker more intently. “If he were really sitting there, his pod would still be moving, at least a little bit. What’s more likely is he’s on one the surrounding planet’s, which is for some reason disrupting the signal.”

“I just don’t know why he’d do this,” Shiro says, frustration clear in his voice. “What’s gotten into him?”

“Maybe he’s being blackmailed,” Hunk suggests.

“Who could be blackmailing him?” Pidge counters.

“I don’t know! The Galra? The King of Zertix?”

“What reason would he have for blackmailing us?” says Allura.

“I don’t know, I’m just thinking aloud,” Hunk says.

“What do you think?” Pidge says, elbowing Lance.

Surprised at being addressed, Lance just shrugs. “I can’t think of anything,” he lies. “Keith seemed perfectly fine yesterday, right?”

“Maybe something happened the day before yesterday,” Hunk says. “Maybe he received some kind of transmission while we were sleeping all day. Some sort of blackmail transmission.”

“Okay, what is up with you and blackmail?” Pidge says, and they start bickering. Lance tunes them out, though he knows he’d be arguing with them just as fervently if he didn’t already know why Keith was gone.

“I suggest we split up,” Shiro says. “There’s a cluster of four planets in that general area — we can each go to one while Coran and the princess monitor the area, looking for movement. Whoever finds him first can call for backup.”

“Sounds good,” Pidge says, speaking over Hunk.

“—like something he’d do. I mean, a few years ago? Sure, I can see it. But _now_?”

“We know, Hunk,” Shiro says, surprisingly patient. “But Keith’s always been the type to bottle things up. Whatever’s going on in his head, he probably has a good reason for it. Or at least, he managed to rationalize that he does.”

“Paladins,” Allura cuts in. “We’ll be wormholing shortly. Please get ready in your lions.”

They’d just been standing there in the middle of the bridge, talking about Keith, but now they’re forced to shut up for a moment, going their separate ways. Lance sighs as he climbs aboard Blue, and he feels her presence brush against his mind.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” he says aloud. “I just wish he’d listened to me.”

The comms connect and one by one, they shoot out of the hangar. Already, it feels weird without the fifth lion with them. Unbalanced, even when they’re not trying to form Voltron.

Wide open space greets them, but there are spec-sized planets in the distance. With Earth’s technology, it’d take forever to get there, but for Alteans, this probably is considered close.

“Everyone have their coordinates?” Shiro says, and Lance glances to one of his screens. He plots the path and it leads him to one of the specs toward the left.

“Yep,” he says, and soon everyone else choruses in agreement. They split up, and within a few minutes, Lance is breaching the atmosphere of his planet. Everyone’s been chatting idly while flying, providing updates and letting one another know when they land, but Lance is still hundreds of feet from the ground when the comms give a loud _crrshzhht!_ and cut out.

“Well, that can’t be good,” Lance says to himself. He fiddles with the controls, letting Blue do her thing and take them closer to the ground, but he can’t reconnect with the others. That might explain why Keith’s location was so off. If he’s on this planet too, maybe it’s something about the planet that’s warping their signals.

He huffs, reluctant to admit to himself that he’s on his own for now. He’ll have no idea of knowing whether the others find Keith first, so he resigns himself to doing a thorough sweep. He doesn’t want to miss any sign of Keith and return to the castle only to realize the others hadn’t found him either.

He flies slow and low to the ground, keeping an eye on Blue’s readings. From the looks of it, the planet’s uninhabited. There are no clusters of civilization, at least, which would be the biggest indicator.

But then he sees smoke in the distance, which could mean that this planet’s just pretty far back on technology. Maybe they’re still the hunter-gatherer type. From what Lance has seen of the galaxy, most planets are far more advanced than Earth, but they’ve definitely come across a few in the farther reaches that are even more set back than his home planet.

Hurrying toward the hopeful-evidence of life, Lance checks to make sure his visor is secure and brings Blue even closer to the ground, preparing to dismount.

That’s when he sees the smoke isn’t one from a fire. It’s coming from something that crashed.

His heart leaps into his throat and sticks there. All measures of safety and protocol fly out the window as he throws Blue into a dive. They hit the ground hard, the feeling so jarring that Lance’s teeth clack together, but Lance is already out of his seat, running toward the opening.

He leaps to the ground way before Blue’s opened up all the way, using his jetpack to avoid breaking his legs. He sprints forward, recognizing the pod as one of their own, and starts searching through the wreckage.

“Keith!” he shouts, throwing aside broken pieces of metal and looking for signs, for anything. His entire body seems to be holding something at bay, maybe a panic attack. He looks for blood, for body parts, for wisps of hair, even, but—

There’s nothing here.

And oh, that’s good. That’s really good. That’s definitely a good sign. And as Lance searches harder, he finds no signs of a body having been thrown from the wreckage. No indication that Keith was flung through the windshield or landed anywhere within a hundred meters of the crash.

Which means he must’ve walked away.

Immediately, Lance starts looking for tracks. For evidence. And after ten minutes, he finds it. A footprint in the dirt, maybe from someone who was stomping angrily, and Lance grins as he starts in that direction, looking for other clues. Following the path of disturbed leaves, broken branches, anything that might indicate that Keith was there.

It’s a grueling walk through the forest. Probably an hour or two of Lance heading in one direction before losing the tracks. Doubling back and finding them again and questioning whether he’s really seeing anything at all. Walking in what feels like circles, going deeper and deeper into the woods, wondering if there’s anything else alive in here. If he’s following the path straight into some creature’s den.

But finally, Lance finds him.

There he is. Settled in the shade and sitting up uncomfortably against a tree, Keith has managed to fall asleep.

“Have a nice vacation?” Lance says loudly, intending to wake him up, but Keith jerks, and before Lance even has time to blink, the red Paladin’s knife is flying through the air. It’s only luck and a little bit of war-hardened reflexes that allow Lance to dodge in time, and it embeds itself in the tree behind him with a loud _thunk_. Lance gapes at the love of his life. “You do realize you almost just killed me?”

“Holy fuck,” Keith says, his voice sounding thick with exhaustion and parched on top of that. The idiot didn’t bring any water with him on his stupid alone-time adventure. “I almost just _killed_ you.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” Lance says, before turning around and yanking the knife out of the tree. He looks it over, but it’s still perfectly sharp. Keith probably sharpens it in his free time.

“I’m so sorry,” Keith says, getting to his feet now, and Lance takes pity on him. He tosses him the hydration pack he keeps strapped in his utility belt and Keith catches it gratefully, his visor dissipating as he brings the water to his mouth. “You need any?” he asks, after chugging almost half.

“I’m good,” Lance says, and Keith desperately downs the rest.

“I can’t believe you found me,” Keith manages, having the decency to sound embarrassed, after he’s crumpled the pouch in his fist and glanced around automatically, as if there’d just happen to be a trashcan nearby.

“I told you we would,” Lance says, crossing his arms in a poor imitation of Keith’s classic pose.

“Yeah, but after you said that, I disabled the tracking device. And then the system went haywire in this atmosphere and I crashed. I felt like such an idiot.”

“You are an idiot,” Lance affirms. “But I don’t blame you.”

“You should,” Keith grunts.

“Nah,” Lance says. “But you’re lucky Allura doesn’t know about the prophecies. She’d probably claim that this is a case of it driving you insane, right?”

Keith frowns, as if he’d never thought of that before. “So you guessed that this was because of the prophecy, then?”

“It wasn’t hard,” Lance says. He steps forward, holding out Keith’s knife, and Keith takes it. “You know we’re in this together, right?”

“I know,” Keith says. “I just — I panicked. How are you handling all of this so well?”

 _I’m not,_ Lance thinks to himself. Although, he doesn’t think Keith would’ve run away if he’d gotten Lance’s prophecy instead of his own. It takes a certain kind of foolishness to want to die alone. It takes an entirely different kind of foolishness to run away from love.

But he doesn’t say that. Instead, he says, “I think I just interpreted the prophecy differently.”

Keith shakes his head, a very subtle movement. The prophecy’s definitely been getting to him. All that nonsense about not letting love in. And whether or not Keith actually has feelings for Lance, it’s obvious he feels _something_. He said he wanted to kiss him, for fuck’s sake. So it’s really not that far a stretch to think that maybe — _just maybe_ — he was running away from Lance.

Which, again, just makes Lance hate these stupid prophecies even more. Here he’s been, helplessly pining over Keith all this time, and when he finally learns that Keith might just feel the same, it’s only because Keith’s been explicitly told to stay away from those feelings.

Bullshit.

Keith opens his mouth to say something, looking troubled and worried and like it’s probably the prophecy that’s on his mind, but before he can speak, something crashes loudly in the forest very near to them.

They both freeze, looking at each other with concern, before what is unmistakably a growl sounds loudly from somewhere behind Lance.

“Blue’s systems said this planet was uninhabited,” Lance says.

“By intelligent lifeforms, maybe,” Keith hisses.

Whatever’s behind them roars in anger. “I think that thing’s plenty intelligent!” Lance says, and then the ground is trembling beneath them, the loud pounds of what must be footsteps crashing through the forest, and he and Keith turn and sprint.

“You are never, _ever_ getting alone-time again!” Lance yells. The two of them split up for a moment, running around different sides of a tree, and when they come together again, their hands intertwine. Lance isn’t sure who reached for who, or if they both reached for each other, but at this point, it’s habit. They’ve been in plenty of running-for-your-life situations by now, and holding someone’s hand is something that can save your life. For example, if someone trips, you simply drag them until they can manage to get back on their feet.

“I’m sorry!” Keith says, managing to sound both angry and remorseful. “Not all of us are as in touch with our feelings as you are!”

Something snaps at Lance’s heel, and he swears he feels hot breath on his neck. Wordlessly, they speed up.

Together, they jump over a log, and Lance lets out a breathless laugh. Belatedly, he remembers a time when he couldn’t even speak while jogging, and nowadays he has enough breath to spare for expressing amusement.

“Dude, you would not _believe_ the amount of shit I repress!”

Keith stumbles, and like a good Samaritan, Lance pulls him right back up.

“Serious?” Keith says, gasping, and the creature roars. Either it’s mad it hasn’t eaten them yet, or it really despises idle chit-chat.

“Tell you all about it if we survive!”

No sooner has Lance made this joke when the trees in front of them explode with some sort of projectile. A thin tree snaps directly in half, but the others just shake and rain them with branches and leaves because of the force of the projectiles. After another two steps, Lance becomes aware of a throbbing pain in his side, right along the midriff that their armor doesn’t cover.

He and Keith are still running, hand-in-hand, but Lance’s footsteps falter and he clings a little harder to Keith’s hand as he pulls him along. When Lance feels along his side, his glove comes away hot and wet with blood.

Well. That’s not good.

Maybe the smell of his blood entices the monster, because Lance swears it’s speeding up. He very suddenly remembers how long he wandered through this forest for, and how far way the Blue Lion is, and just how unlikely it is that they’ll make it there before this thing eats them. Especially with Lance slowing down like he is.

“Okay, we’re gonna have to find somewhere to hide,” Lance pants.

“We’re less than a mile away,” Keith argues.

“I’m bleeding profusely,” Lance adds, and this time it’s Keith who falters. Lance pulls ahead again, tugging Keith along now, who’s cursing loudly a step behind him.

“I’m gonna fucking kill this thing,” he says.

“No time! Find a place to hide!”

It’s another minute or two of flat-out sprinting before they come across what closely resembles a cave. It’s just a couple of boulders that are close together and have stood so long that the land seems to have formed along them, encasing the top, and Keith makes a bee-line for it. He shoves Lance in first, none too gentle with him despite his injury, and Lance shimmies in between the rocks without caring for it either, not wanting Keith to get stuck out there while he eases his way in.

The cave isn’t roomy. Keith’s head brushes the top, and Lance has to stoop, but they both collapse to the ground anyway, exhausted and also injured, in Lance’s case.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Keith says animatedly. The rocks shake as the monster roars, and dust rains on them as a result of whatever its doing out there, but it can’t get in, and it looks like it can’t manage to move the boulders either. After a minute of sitting there and catching their breath, at which point it seems like the creature gives up on catching its query, they relax.

Keith activates the flashlight on the forearm of his armor and he and Lance both look to his side.

Whatever those projectiles were, Lance was lucky enough that it only hit him here. His suit is torn along the side, but it could’ve easily gone through his entire stomach if he’d been standing just a step closer to Keith. This certainly isn’t the worst injury he’s ever had, even if it stings like a bitch.

“Okay,” Keith says, quickly taking stock of the situation. “First thing’s first, we have to find out if you’re poisoned,” he says bracingly.

“I feel fine,” Lance says quickly. “No wooziness, no deliriousness, no excruciating pain.”

“Mental facilities working fine?”

“Totally.”

“Go through the diagnostics check of our lions,” Keith says as he scoots forward, cutting the fabric of Lance’s suit away from the injury. Shit looks gruesome, even if it’s not going to kill him. It went through his side, but it didn’t rip his skin off, which is probably a good thing, seeing as they’ll be able to sew it shut. Still, it looks gross and flappy, and Lance is already wishing he hadn’t decided to look at it.

“Lance,” Keith says sternly.

“Right, right,” Lance says quickly. “First, sentience check. Then mobility check. Then accuracy check.”

“Right,” Keith says, now pulling the med kit out of his armor. The bayard goes on one side and the med kit on the other. Lance couldn’t tell you the amount of times he’d accidentally summoned the med pack during their first month in space. Honestly, there’s nothing more embarrassing than showing up to a gun fight with a first aid kit.

“Then comes the fun part,” Lance continues. “Guns, laser, and ice ray checks, in my case.”

“Yep,” Keith says, and Lance huffs as the antiseptic stings. He very determinedly looks the other way when he feels the needle pierce his skin, followed by that odd tugging sensation of the thread. “And then?”

“Then you steal Hunk and make him do the mechanics check,” Lance says. “Tell if him you need an oil change or a steering alignment,” he jokes.

“Ha-ha,” Keith says sarcastically, and Lance blows a raspberry.

“Then the flying check,” Lance continues without prompting. “Requiring, mmm… about seventeen loop-de-loops.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not necessary.”

“I’m pretty sure it _is_ , if you don’t want to be bored out of your mind,” Lance scoffs, and he can feel Keith’s laugh against his neck.

“I guess you’re not poisoned,” Keith relents. “Although you can still take the tablet if you’re worried.”

“Save it,” Lance says. “Who knows, maybe you’ll get bit by a poisonous bug in your sleep tonight.”

“Venomous,” Keith says.

“What?”

“It’s _poisonous_ if you bite it and die,” Keith says. “It’s _venomous_ if it bites you and you die.”

“Thank God you’re here,” Lance jokes. “Without that distinction, I might’ve gotten bitten and died in ignorance.”

“You’re very welcome,” Keith says sarcastically, and then he ties off the thread and Lance examines his work. Keith’s managed to clear all the blood away, and with it all sewn up, it looks much less gruesome. It’s not the prettiest stitching he’s ever seen in his life (certainly no comparison to the seven stitches he’d had to get when he’d fallen out of a tree on his tenth birthday) but it’s not bad at all. It’ll keep Lance together until they can get back to the ship, at least.

“Thanks,” Lance says, serious this time, but Keith just shakes his head.

“This wouldn’t have happened to you if I hadn’t gone off on my own.”

“And you wouldn’t have done that if you’d never gotten a prophecy,” Lance counters. “I love blaming others for my problems. So much easier than blaming myself.”

Keith snorts, but he scoots up against the wall of the cave, sitting on Lance’s injured side, probably to keep him from pressing his injury against the dirt if he accidentally falls asleep.

“Try to sleep for a couple hours,” Keith suggests. “Once we’re sure that that thing is gone, we can make a break for Blue.”

“Sounds good to me,” Lance says, yawning already. He closes his eyes, and within a minute, he’s out like a light. Despite being tired himself, Keith manages to stay awake the whole time, though only because he doesn’t dare move a muscle, not wanting to disturb Lance after he slumps to the side, using his shoulder as a pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things i'm proudest of in this chapter:
> 
> \- accurately describing the sound of a radio cutting out (if i do say so myself)  
> -


	9. "it will kill you if you don't say please"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, every single chapter: and here i will insert a quick ~backstory~ in the middle of this conversation

“...aaand we survived,” Lance says, once the hatch closes behind them. They’re bathed in the blue-tinged light of Blue’s interior, and Keith looks like he might finally lose that stupid constipated look he’s been wearing ever since they left the safety of their cave.

“I didn’t say we weren’t going to survive,” Keith immediately argues.

“Yeah, but you holding both your sword AND your knife while hurrying us along wasn’t a real vote of confidence, either.”

“I just like to be prepared,” Keith huffs, before grabbing Lance’s arm and maneuvering him into the pilot’s seat. “Just let me check your stitches again.”

“You checked them before we left the cave.”

“Yeah, in horrible lighting and before we walked through an entire forest. I’m just being thorough.”

“You’re being a worry-wart, and I’m not sure I like the look on you.”

Keith ignores him, and Lance does his best to try to ignore the feeling of Keith’s fingers on his skin. He tries to the comm channel but it’s still not working. He groans.

“This planet sucks,” Lance mutters, leaning forward to fiddle with the controls, but Keith splays a second hand on his chest and keeps him still in his seat.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Trying to contact the team,” Lance says. “Or did you want to fawn over your stitch-work forever?”

Keith scoffs, but he takes a step back and allows Lance to lean forward, though he immediately misses the proximity. Lance tries connecting to different channels and even rebooting his communications system entirely, but no matter what, it doesn’t connect. Not that he really expected it to.

“Whatever,” Lance says. “We’ll just fly back to the castle without warning them first.”

“Didn’t you say that the castle was circling the planets?”

Lance curses. “We’ll circle the planets in the opposite direction.” He reaches for one of the levers and grits his teeth when the movement pulls on his injury, making his side throb.

“Maybe I should be doing that,” Keith says.

“Like Blue would let you fly her,” Lance scoffs, throwing her into action a little faster than usual in order to make Keith fall into his seat. He plots a course to circle the grouping of planets. Though Blue is fast, she’s nowhere near as fast as the Castle-Ship, and it’ll take anywhere around five hours to circle all the way around these planets, especially if they’re trying to conserve Blue’s energy.

Her communications are still down, which means he’ll need to get Hunk tinkering around in here for him later. If they happen to find the Castle anytime soon, at least.

With the course plotted, Blue can fly on her own, and Lance sits back to wait.

An hour later, he’s shucked off the torso of his armor in order to get more comfortable. His helmet is in Keith’s hands, who’s also no longer wearing the upper half of his armor, and he has two painkillers in his system, thanks to more of Keith’s babying.

Keith tosses the helmet and Lance catches it.

“Ninety-six,” he says. Tosses it back.

“Ninety-seven.”

Keith fumbles it on ninety-nine and they both stare at it on the floor of blue, defeated.

“New game?” Keith suggests, and Lance nods.

They play I-spy, a short-lived game of truth or dare, because neither of them want to get up, and 20 questions. They play rock paper scissors, the one-word-story game, and have a stupidly long staring contest.

That’s when Lance says, “Let’s play 21 questions.”

“We already played that,” Keith says.

“No, we played _20_ questions. There’s a difference,” Lance says, and he’s right. One is a deductive reasoning game and the other is the get-to-know-you game, which he explains to Keith.

“But we already know each other,” Keith points out.

“Fine, you think of a game then,” Lance huffs, and Keith immediately ends up backtracking, because he’s yet to provide a game for them to play and Lance would bet his next space-pancake that Keith’s never played many of these before.

“You start,” Lance says, and Keith leans forward, tapping the tips of his fingers together.

“Okay, um. What’s your favorite color?”

Lance stares at him. “Are you serious?”

“I guess. I mean, I’ve never asked before. It’s probably blue.”

“Blue is definitely one of the superior colors, but growing up, I always loved purple,” Lance answers honestly. He pats Blue’s dashboard fondly. “But I would _never_ trade you in for a purple lion,” he adds quickly. Then he turns to Keith. “Hunk and Pidge are drowning and you can’t only save one. Who do you save?”

“ _What_? I’m not answering that!”

“If you don’t answer, they both die. Five! Four! Three!”

“Lance!”

“Two—”

“Pidge!” Keith blurts, immediately looking horrified. He quickly begins to explain. “Hunk’s family probably already thinks he’s dead, but if we ever came across Pidge’s family — God.”

“Rational,” Lance approves. “Your turn!”

Keith gets into it after that. Asks more hard-hitting questions. He asks Lance about what he saw in the Cave of Curiosities, and Lance asks whether he would return to Earth or stay in space, given the choice. (He’d rather stay in space. Lance can’t say he’s surprised.)

Despite the no-limits rule of the game, they’re nice enough to not ask certain things. Like why Keith really left the other night, even though Lance has a particularly strong hunch.

Lance asks Keith whether he would rather be a vampire or a werewolf (he says werewolf, which is just foolish. A horrific, involuntary transformation once a month instead of immortality? Come on) and Keith asks who Lance’s first kiss was (a girl at a high school party, on a dare).

“Were you serious when you said you repress a lot of stuff?” Keith asks, once they’re seventeen questions in.

“Did I say that?” Lance jokes. “People tend to say crazy things when they’re running for their lives.”

“Oh, so you’re allowed to lie in this game?”

Lance scoffs. “I was mostly joking. I don’t repress, like, a lot of stuff. But I’ve been known to ignore a good feeling or two.”

“Like what?”

“Is that your next question?”

“It’s an extension of this question,” Keith says. “Because your answer wasn’t satisfying enough.”

“Ugh. I’ll take _Things I Repress_ for 500… What is — homesickness?”

“What, are we playing Family Feud now?”

“Oh, God, Keith. Please tell me you’re joking.”

Keith just stares at him.

“It’s Jeopardy!” Lance shouts. “C’mon!”

“I’m not a game show expert!” Keith says.

“It’s a classic! I just — _Keith_.” Lance is grinning. He certainly shouldn’t be. Once again, Keith is showing his disconcerting lack of knowledge about things that are huge — things /everyone/ knows about, but it’s…

 _Endearing_.

Ah, yes. The curse of being in love with someone. Even when they’re just plain stupid, your heart goes _whump_.

“Whatever,” Keith says, before abruptly changing the subject. “So, homesickness?”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I don’t talk about it much. Same with whenever I’m feeling sad or lonely or whatever. If it’s negative, I don’t bring it up.”

“You shouldn’t do that,” Keith says.

“Oh, so you talk about your feelings a lot?”

Keith frowns. “I guess if I really need to talk about it, I’ll go to Shiro,” he says. Hm. Shiro said that Keith bottles things up. But maybe those aren’t the things that Keith thinks are important enough to talk about.

For Lance, the person he goes to is Hunk. Except he still doesn’t go to him about the serious stuff. Or if he does, he frames it as something else. Like once, when they saved this little girl on an ice planet who’d looked remarkably similar to Lance’s little sister, he’d been really down in the dumps. And later he’d gone to Hunk’s room. Said he was upset that he hadn’t gotten one of the ice princess’ numbers.

“We don’t even have phones, Lance,” Hunk had said.

“God, just give me more reasons to be sad,” Lance had whined, before collapsing in Hunk’s bed to get his cuddle on. Hunk hadn’t really been comforting him for the right reasons, but he’d been comforting him all the same.

It’s just. Lance doesn’t really like to burden people with those kinds of things. The things that are really, truly negative. He always tries to be this happy, positive guy, and what do you do when _that_ person gets sad?

He remembers back in elementary school, he’d always been the class clown. Half the teachers hated him, and the other half secretly loved him, even if he got on their nerves in class. Those were the teachers that he would talk to after school let out, or sometimes draw a picture for during art class.

Thing is, Lance has always liked to make people laugh. And when his abuela had had to go to the hospital for a fever, he’d been really scared, thinking she was going to die. He’d gone to school that week all angry and upset. He’d turned a cold shoulder to his classmates and stayed silent during lessons, which kept him on the “green card” during class, but inside he’d been scared and sad.

In the end, his abuela was fine and he went back to his normal self, but he never forgot what it felt like. He’d thought he had all these friends, all these people who always laughed at his jokes and talked to him during lunch, but when he’d really needed it, no one had noticed that something was wrong. He’d even gotten a sticker that Friday for good behavior.

It’s stupid, he knows. He knows his friends wouldn’t turn their backs on him just because he has a problem or is upset about something. But he doesn’t want to give them a reason to feel bad, too. If it’s something he can handle on his own, he doesn’t see any good reason to bring others into it.

In the end, Lance shrugs. “My problems are my own,” he says simply. Keith frowns, but he’s already asked his question (two, actually, though Lance isn’t going to press him on that) so Lance moves the conversation along.

“You’re trapped on a planet with one member of the team, no lion, and no means of communication. Who do you choose to get trapped with?”

“You,” Keith says immediately.

Lance blinks. “Wait, what?”

It’s hard to tell, what with the blue-tinged lights and all, but Lance is pretty sure Keith’s blushing. “I have good reasons,” he says.

“Yeah? Let’s hear ‘em,” Lance says, swinging his legs over the side of the chair to face Keith properly.

“Sounds like an extra question,” Keith hedges, and Lance pulls his bayard out, pretending to aim it at Keith. It loses some of the effect, seeing as he hasn’t actually transformed it into his gun.

“You’re kidding, right? You did the same to me!”

“Sounds fake,” Keith says, which is just — he stole that from Lance’s vocabulary. He definitely, _absolutely_ did.

“You tell me right now or I will _turn this lion around_.”

“Would it kill you to say please?”

“Absolutely,” Lance says, and this time he really does transform his bayard, shaking it threateningly. Keith laughs.

“Okay, one, you’re good with people. Say the planet’s inhabited — you’re probably the best person on the team to befriend those people and get help,” Keith says. Lance opens his mouth, not even sure how he’s going to respond, but Keith plows onward. “Two, you’re entertaining. You’ve got all these games to play and a million stories to tell, so even if we were really stranded, it wouldn’t be terrible. Three, you’re not afraid to disagree with me. If you think I have a bad idea, you’ll tell me. Plus, we’ve fought before and we’re still friends, so it’s not like we’re ever going to have a fight we can’t come back from. Also, our fighting styles complement each other — that’s just basic survival.”

Lance’s entire mouth feels dry. He just — he can’t believe this man. He can’t believe he’s not going to get to _kiss_ this man. Not if what Keith said when he was drunk is true: that he wants to kiss Lance after their timers run out.

And Lance knows that he’s trying to be more optimistic now. He wants to believe Celafait, wants to trust that she might be right, hope that he might not die at the end of this — but he can’t lie to himself. He’s _not_ a kid anymore, and he has to accept that hoping isn’t enough to ensure his survival. He won’t know until his timer runs out whether he’s going to survive, and all he can really do is wait and see.

Only 23 more days.

“You’re a genius,” Lance announces, and Keith rolls his eyes, but it looks fond. He’s sitting there with his arms crossed over his chest. His knee bounces just slightly, and when Lance looks down at his foot, his heel’s tapping against the floor. “I’d choose you, too,” Lance adds. “You’ve got _two_ weapons.”

Keith snorts, and he kicks out at Lance, who kicks back. They don’t have time to finish their game, because at the next moment, the castle comes into view.

Lance isn’t sure whether the rest of the team’s returned yet or if they’re still on their planets, looking for Keith, but having the Blue Lion’s exact coordinates must help with reconnecting the communication link, because in the next moment the comms are crackling to life.

“Lance!” Allura says, relief clear in her voice. The rest of the Paladins are clamoring in the background, in their own lions from the sound of it.

“Holy shit, you found him?!” Pidge says.

“If by ‘him’ you mean ‘Keith,’ then yes,” Lance interjects, and there’s more shouting.

“We found them!” Hunk shouts, and Pidge whoops, and Allura’s yelling over them, telling them all to get back to the castle, and Lance is just grinning at Keith.

Keith, who would choose him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please note that my notes for this chapter were just: "DIALOGUE CHAPPYYY"


	10. go it alone

He doesn’t have any nightmares, that night. It’s not until Lance wakes up that he realizes his dreams have been tense and uneasy for the past week.

Everyone was beyond relieved when he and Keith showed up. They’d been close to breaching the planet themselves, despite knowing that their comms would likely go down too, just making a bigger mess of the situation.

Keith apologized for running out on them. Said he’d had a lot on his mind lately and shouldn’t have let it get to him like that. And that no, he didn’t want to talk about it right now, Shiro.

Allura had wanted him to say more, but Keith was stubborn, and a pretty private person in general, so no one was surprised when he refused to elaborate. The whole ordeal was settled with a promise from Keith to not do anything like that again, and a promise from Pidge to put a child-lock system on the castle, with Allura as the acting parent. Now the pods won’t activate without her permission unless the castle is being attacked.

Besides the residual tension at breakfast over Keith’s temporary abandonment, everything goes back to normal. In fact, Hunk comes up with the idea of throwing a party that night. One where they don’t have to muck and schmooze with alien officials who they have to attempt not to insult with their lack of knowledge about their culture.

It’s actually a really great idea. They’ve never thrown a party just for themselves before. In fact, though the word “party” used to have Lance running to put on a muscle tank, grab a snapback, and beg an older sibling to buy him a six-pack, nowadays it held a much more negative connotation. Parties weren’t somewhere to let loose, but to be on your best behavior. They weren’t a place of having fun and laughing with your friends and embarrassing yourself irreparably, but for secretly getting as drunk as you could manage without it being noticeable and trying to find ways to sneak off without it being seen as a slight.

So, yeah. They’re all pretty excited.

And Hunk’s totally right. It’s the perfect way to blow off some steam and reduce stress. Lance is all for it.

Coran’s the one that provides the alcohol — apparently there’s some secret store of it somewhere in the castle, which Lance finds preposterous, as he was sure he’d figured out all of the castle’s secrets by now — and by the time they’re all gathered in the rec room, Lance is more excited than he can ever remember being for a party.

Sure, it’s fun to go to some random house party and make out with a stranger and pet the dog that you accidentally find locked up in office, but it’s a completely _different_ kind of fun when you’re partying with just your friends. There are no awkward pretenses, no stilted conversations, and no worrying about embarrassing yourself in front of strangers, though Lance can’t honestly say that it would be any better to embarrass yourself in front of Pidge. She has an uncanny way of holding onto blackmail.

Still, he’s not too worried. Plus, it’s nice that they’re actually allowed to drink without Shiro and Allura getting on their cases.

Back when they were still new to this — the being space soldiers and important political figures, not the drinking — both Allura and Shiro were really strict about them drinking. So they would sneak drinks at the parties and dinners they went to, especially if they were really boring, which only made them get drunk faster, honestly.

God, this one time, they were visiting this planet on the same day as some big festival they were having. Those people had four arms and two stomachs, so there were plenty of drinks to go around. Shiro was especially wary of them trying to sneak drinks that day, and he’d warned them explicitly that they weren’t to drink, that they didn’t want to do something stupid and ruin their reputation before it’d even begun.

So obviously, they’d come up with a system. They’d used all of their knowledge of military strategy and tactics to distract Allura and Shiro whenever possible. They’d assigned shifts to themselves, meaning there was always one person with both Shiro and Allura, keeping their attention and allowing the others to get drinks. Meanwhile, whoever was on drink duty would get enough for all of them — two of which they’d drink while enjoying themselves, and two of which they’d save for when the others came back to be relieved.

That day had been so fun. At one point, Lance had been standing in one of those monstrous lines waiting for a drink when Coran had walked past him. Lance had frozen, terrified that he was about to get called out, but Coran had just frowned at him.

“Why are you standing in this line?” he’d said.

“Um, well — I just,” Lance had said, trying to think of some sort of excuse, when Coran had grabbed his arm. And instead of dragging him to Shiro and Allura, he’d dragged him up to the front. “You’re a Paladin! Enjoy the special treatment when you can!”

And Lance had walked away with four drinks in hand, Coran having escorted him directly to the alcohol.

It’d been Pidge and Hunk’s distracting duty at the time, and he and Keith had ended up drinking their drinks too, before cutting to the front of the line to get them more before they could come back and realize. After that, Lance had gone to distract Allura, and it’d taken him ten whole minutes to realize he was talking to a silver-haired girl with four arms, not two.

Anyway, it wasn’t too long after that that they were officially given permission to drink, though Shiro did try to restrict Pidge.

“What, I’m old enough to fly a sentient robot lion and fight in a war to take down a tyrannical empire, but I can’t have a drink at a party?”

And, well. That was that.

“Everyone ready?” Hunk says, having just finished pouring the shots. He slides them across the table and Lance picks his up, his fingers wet from the alcohol that’s spilled over the side.

Once everyone’s holding theirs, Hunk counts down from three. They clink their glasses together, tap them to the table, and throw them back. Lance grimaces, and when he opens his eyes with an, “ _Ugh_ ,” he sees Keith across the table, already chasing it with juice.

“Pussy,” he jokes.

“You just want my chaser,” Keith says.

“Please,” says Lance, and Keith passes it, Lance sipping it gratefully.

Before long, they’ve immersed themselves in a drinking game. It’s like Never Have I Ever but with a twist, something Lance saw in a TV show once. Instead of saying something you’ve never done, you make a statement about someone else. If you’re wrong, you drink. If you’re right, they drink.

“Sounds simple enough,” Allura says with a shrug. “Lance, you have brown hair.”

“Okay, it’s not that simple,” Lance says. “You can’t already know the answer.”

“Man, what do I _not_ know about Lance?” Pidge says, and Lance aims a kick at her.

“Who wants to start?” he says. Shiro volunteers.

“Hunk,” he says. “You’ve never… taken a cooking class.”

“True!” Hunk says, and he drinks.

“Oh, I get it,” Allura says. “Do me!”

And so Hunk turns to Allura. “Your favorite kind of novel is romance.”

“Wrong,” Allura says gleefully. “It’s mystery novels. Drink!”

Everyone catches on quickly, and the game speeds up. They end up switching to mixed drinks, because they quickly realize they can’t just keep taking shots if they want this game to last long.

“Keith,” Pidge says. “You didn’t get a phone until high school.”

“Wrong,” Keith says, and Pidge is already drinking. “I never had a phone.”

This causes an uproar, everyone shouting over each other and demanding to know how Keith survived without one. Well, everyone except Allura and Coran, who don’t know what phones are, and Shiro, who obviously already knew.

The game moves swiftly on. Keith guesses that Shiro didn’t lose his virginity until he was in his twenties, and Shiro drinks. Shiro says that Coran’s written a book, and to everyone’s surprise, he’s right, though Coran claims there isn’t a copy of it on the ship. Coran fires a question at Lance, who turns it on Pidge, who turns it onto Allura, who apparently used to own not just one pet, but twenty-seven.

“Lance,” Allura says. “You’ve never been in love.”

“Drink, bitch,” Lance says.

“ _What_?” Pidge says. “Who?!”

“That’s for me to know and you to never find out,” Lance says, but everyone’s clamoring over each other and shouting at Lance.

“When was this?” Hunk says.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Lance says. “Or in this case, fall in love and tell.”

“I thought we were best friends, man,” Hunk says, and he looks genuinely hurt. Lance stands up and climbs over Shiro, collapsing half on Hunk’s lap and half on the couch next to him.

“We are,” Lance says, grabbing his hand and holding it. “It’s just a secret.”

“ _Is_ a secret, or _was_ a secret?” Pidge interrupts.

“Will always be a secret,” Lance says, swiftly avoiding the question. “Allura, drink, everyone else, move on!”

There’s some grumbling, and a lot of surprised looks thrown his way, but everyone seems to understand that for once, he’s not caving.

“Keith,” Lance says, pointing at his latest target. “Shiro was the first person you came out to?”

Keith grins. “Drink,” he says, and Lance groans, grabbing for his cup, which is still on the other side of Shiro. Shiro hands it to him.

“It definitely wasn’t me,” Shiro adds. “He didn’t tell me until we were in space, even though I was dating Adam,” he says, glaring at Keith accusingly.

Keith shrugs. “Felt weird,” he says. “I didn’t want to be like, oh, you’re gay? Me too.”

“That’s how I came out to a lot of people,” Lance points out. “If I know someone’s not straight, I _need_ them to know that I’m not either. Can’t explain it.”

“Yeah, I know,” Keith says, and he’s grinning at Lance. “You did that to me.”

Man, Lance had totally forgotten about that. It’d been years ago. Actually, it’d been at that festival where they’d stolen drinks all night.

Pidge and Hunk had been on distraction duty, and he and Keith had been slumped against the side of a building, both of them definitely having drank too much. But even in that state, Lance could tell when someone was eyeing him up. Or in this case, eyeing his friend up.

“Dude,” Lance had said, lowering his voice as he elbowed Keith in the side. “That girl’s totally into you.”

Keith had looked up, following Lance’s gaze to where a beautiful alien was standing, staring at Keith with the straw of her drink in her mouth. Seeing that Keith was looking at her, she’d grinned.

“That’s nice,” Keith had said blandly.

“You should say hi!” Lance had said, elbowing him a second time.

“I don’t think so,” Keith had said with a snort, and Lance had whined, turning to face him fully.

“How come? She’s not out of your league,” he’d said. “It’s obvious she’s into you.”

“But I’m not into her,” Keith had said. “I’m gay.”

Lance’s mouth had dropped open. And then, “ _Me too_!”

Keith had just stared at him, not believing him for a second.

“I mean, not completely gay. I swing both ways.”

“You know what, that seems incredibly accurate for you,” Keith had said, rolling his eyes fondly.

Lance had jabbed his own chest with his thumb. “Can’t be tamed,” he’d said, and Keith had shoved him with a snort.

After that, Lance had been a little _too_ interested in Keith. He’d always thought he was hot, but knowing he wasn’t completely unavailable? That had been the last straw. It’d been a slippery slope after that.

“So who did you first come out to?” Coran asks now, politely interested.

“Some kid in middle school,” Keith says. “And only because I punched him.”

Lance snorts, burying his head in his hands as he shakes with laughter. How is that just so _Keith_?

“What happened?” says Hunk.

“He was picking on some kid,” Keith says absently. “Saying he dressed gay and talked gay. The other kid was getting really mad, saying he was going to punch the other guy. And he was like, ‘Yeah? Well I bet you punch gay too!’”

“Oh no,” Pidge snorts, obviously seeing where this is going.

“Yeah, so I stepped in and punched him in the nose. Blood was gushing everywhere and he was crying. I was standing over him, and I said, ‘How’s that for a gay punch?’”

“Oh my God,” Shiro says, grinning.

“It’s definitely cringey when I think about it, but it’s probably the best a twelve-year-old could come up with. I was suspended for three days, and later that kid came out as transgender, not gay.”

“That’s awesome,” Lance says. “I can’t believe you defended her like that.”

Keith shrugs, looking abashed. “I was an angry kid.”

“Well that’s interesting,” Coran interrupts. “Can humans change their gender at will?”

“Not exactly,” Pidge says. “But some people don’t feel exactly right as how they’re identified at birth. There’s earth medicine and stuff you can do to change that, or some people just change their pronouns.”

“That is interesting,” Allura says. “I guess that never happened on Altea because of our shape-shifting abilities. If you wanted to look different, you could.”

“That’s awesome,” Pidge says. “I used to go by they/them on the internet.”

For a second, silence falls. Lance leans over Hunk, looking at Pidge, who’s suddenly pink in the face. He thinks that maybe this is a conversation that should happen when they’re sober, but it’s already happening now.

“Really?” he says. “Is that what you prefer?”

“I mean, it’s not a big deal,” Pidge adds hastily. “Only Matt ever referred to me as ‘them’ in real life.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Lance says gently.

Pidge shrugs. “I don’t really mind. The only pronouns I didn’t like were when you guys all thought I was a dude.”

“Sure, but if you want to go by they/them, just say the word,” Lance says. “It might take some time, but everyone here would get used to it. Right guys?”

“Yeah,” Keith says quickly.

“For sure,” Hunk adds, throwing an arm around Pidge’s shoulders, and then everyone else is chiming in too.

Pidge looks at Lance, grinning now. “Okay,” they say.

“Okay,” Lance says, smiling too.

“Pidge,” Keith says. “The first person you came out to was someone on the internet.”

Pidge gives Keith the finger while everyone laughs before taking a shot. Lance holds out his fist for a fist bump, which they enthusiastically return.

They keep playing for a while, the questions and ensuing laughter abundant.

The joy overwhelms him. He’s hit with a sudden rush of love and appreciation for these people. He can’t imagine any of this with anyone else. And he’s so, so _glad_ he’s gotten to know them all, be friends with them all, that his heart _hurts_.

He loves them so much. These people, they’re not just his team, and they’re not just his friends — they’re his family. They’ve been through so much together, and it suddenly hits him that much too soon, he’s going to go somewhere where they can’t follow. It feels like a punch to the throat.

Because as much as he doesn’t want to leave them behind, doesn’t want to abandon them to this war and to find his replacement — he doesn’t want to be left behind either. He’s never had to do any of this alone.

He found the Blue Lion with his team. He was thrust into space, across a galaxy, and into a war with his team. But now, he’s going somewhere the rest of them can’t follow. For the first time, in just twenty-two days, he’s truly going to be alone.

And right now, that feels like too much to handle.

His friends are still laughing, happy and giggle-drunk, and Lance can feel his mood sinking rapidly. He doesn’t know why he’s even thinking of this now. Why it keeps creeping into his mind when he’s always trying so hard to ignore it.

“Bathroom,” Lance mutters, getting quickly to his feet.

“Hurry back!” Allura says.

“Don’t throw up!” Hunk adds, and everyone laughs.

Lance’s smile slips off his face once he’s out of the room. He walks without a destination, his feet feeling like they weigh a million pounds, and he sinks down against a wall once he feels like he can’t walk anymore. There, he pulls his knees into his chest, buries his face in his well-worn jeans, and fails to hold back his sobs.

At the very core of it, he’s not ready. In the back of his mind, he always assumed that there would be a proper end to this someday. He knew that death was a possibility, knew that it was likely, even, but a big part of him thought it would never happen to him. Thought that after enough time, they’d win the war. That he’d get to go home and see his family. That he wouldn’t die in his twenties.

It’s so stupid, but Lance doesn’t even know how old he is. He knows it’s been years. Knows he’s definitely old enough to legally drink, by now. But he has no clue what his exact age is. He hasn’t celebrated a birthday since he was on Earth. And after he dies, his friends won’t have an anniversary for that, either. There’ll never be a day where they sit down and think to themselves, _Lance died on this day, one year ago._

“Hey,” someone says, and Lance’s breath hitches. His sobbing abruptly stops, and he raises his head, finding Keith standing in front of him. It’s no use pretending that he wasn’t crying, so he wipes his tears away.

“Hey, sorry,” Lance says, clearing his throat. Keith sinks down next to him, and their shoulders bump together.

“What’s wrong?” he says. “I thought you were having fun.”

“Sometimes I can be a sad drunk,” Lance says. “Just got in my feels a bit.”

Keith is silent for a moment. When Lance looks at him, he’s frowning. “You know you can tell me, right?” he says. “You don’t have to suffer alone.”

It feels like his grief is consuming him. Swallowing him whole. And here Keith is, with his hand extended once more, offering to shoulder some of it for him. But that offer just isn’t something Lance can accept. This, just like his death, is something he has to handle alone. So Lance smiles, and he wipes his eyes, and he shakes his head. He never has to know that Lance is lying.

“I’m fine, really,” he says. “Just a lot going on in my head. But I’ll be over it in the morning.”

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter now,” Keith points out.

Lance sighs heavily, and because he’s drunk, he lets himself slump against Keith’s side. Lets himself rest his head on Keith’s shoulder. “You’re a good friend, Keith. Thank you.”

“So are you, Lance,” Keith says, and his arm comes up around Lance’s back, and Lance presses himself up against Keith a little tighter. “So are you.”


	11. hesitation

“If one more plant touches me, I swear to God, I’ll burn this entire forest down,” Pidge says, kicking a writhing plant out of the way.

That morning, they’d all woken up incredibly not-hungover, which apparently is a perk of Altean alcohol. Also an apparent perk, they’d been infused with energy, as if they’d consumed coffee that didn’t activate for a good twelve hours. Allura decided to put their energy to good use, and now they’re on a planet in the Urax galaxy, looking for a certain kind of bug that the people of Jiigsew worship. Apparently, it’ll go down as a great gift and help them earn their trust more quickly.

“Please don’t wrestle with the plants, Pidge,” Allura says quickly. “You saw what happened to Hunk.”

Instinctively, Lance looks at Hunk, who’s still rubbing his neck. He stepped on a particularly sensitive plant earlier, and it’d shot out of the ground and wrung itself around his neck, much to everyone’s immediate horror.

“I just think these plants need to learn about personal space,” Pidge mutters, sending said plant another seething glare.

“They’re more scared of you than you are of them,” Shiro says, and immediately frowns. “You know what, I have no idea what I’m saying.”

Lance snorts, patting Shiro on the shoulder as he passes him by. “I think you’re still a little drunk from last night.”

“That’s impossible,” Shiro laughs, but then he pauses. “Right? That’s impossible?”

“It’s been known to happen,” Allura says offhandedly, failing to take notice of Shiro’s horrified expression. Lance exchanges a look with Keith, both of them holding in laughter.

“How are we even supposed to find this special bug?” Pidge grumbles, ignoring Allura’s advice and kicking another plant out of the way. It recoils.

“It glows,” Keith answers her.

“I didn’t ask what it looked like,” they say.

“Maybe it’ll be somewhere in the dark?” Hunk suggests.

“You guys go ahead and have a cave adventure,” Lance says. “I’ll sit this one out.”

But, “They only glow sometimes,” Allura informs them. “And they’re not cave-bugs. They tend to like foliage, which is why we’re looking here.”

Pidge groans.

“Don’t complain, Pidge,” Lance says. “Sometimes fighting a space-war means using high-tech equipment and shooting down baddies, and sometimes it means searching for a glorified firefly.”

“That’s a good name for it,” Allura muses, and Lance grins at Keith.

He’s glad they’re around the rest of the team right now. Ever since their conversation last night, he can tell that Keith’s been trying to get him alone. He clearly wants to talk about what Lance was upset about more, but in case Keith learned nothing from their game of 21 questions, Lance might have to remind him that he’s the kind of person to _not_ share the reason for sneaking off and crying during a party.

Stupid Keith and his stupid concern for Lance. It’s adorable. Lance loves him.

This morning, they came out of their rooms at the same time and Lance panicked. He muttered something about forgetting his pants and went right back into his room, despite the fact that he was already wearing pants and Keith hadn’t even tried to talk to him yet. And after breakfast, he’d lingered at the table long enough to ensure that he wouldn’t be alone anywhere where Keith could corner him. And then Lance had invited Allura to ride down to the planet with him in his lion so Keith wouldn’t try to establish a private channel once they left the Castle-Ship.

Really, a lot of measures have gone into Lance’s avoidance of Keith. He’s honestly kind of proud of himself. Now, he just has to continue to keep their alone-time nonexistent, that way Keith can’t ruin everything Lance has worked for all morning.

Then again, stuff like this hasn’t always worked out in Lance’s favor in the past. Once, back when Keith was more his rival than friend, they’d gotten in a fight and Lance had gone the whole nine-yards of ignoring him, including that incredibly mature kind of thing where you go, “Oh, did Keith say something?” and “Tell Keith that I’m not speaking to him, and also that his mullet smells,” while Keith was in the room.

Keith must’ve complained to Shiro, or maybe Shiro just got tired of Lance’s antics himself, because he’d ended up sending them on a mission together. As much as Lance had wanted to ignore him throughout it, it was kind of impossible, seeing as communication was imperative for their survival.

“Why do you hate me, anyway?” Keith had snapped at him, after Lance had said something snide to him. Probably about his mullet. Even back then, Lance hadn’t had a very long list of reasons to dislike Keith, so he’d focused most of his hate into Keith’s hairstyle, which didn’t even look bad, though he doubted anyone but Keith could pull it off.

“I don’t hate you,” Lance had scoffed. “You’re always an asshole to me, so I’m just returning the favor.”

“When have I ever been an asshole to you?” Keith had said, and when Lance had started to answer, he’d interrupted with, " _Without_ you provoking me.”

Lance hadn’t ended up giving him a straight answer. There’d been a lot of muttering about built up resentment, and a really long-winded way of saying he was jealous of him, but by the end of the trip, Lance wasn’t ignoring Keith anymore. And he wasn’t so mean to him, either.

Which is why Lance is immediately terrified when Shiro speaks up.

“Okay,” he says, fed-up with the fact that they still haven’t found the stupid bug. “We’re splitting up.”

Keith subtly steps closer to Lance, who stiffens. Sneaky little fuck. He better not have done what Lance thinks he did.

“Pidge, go with Allura, you guys can head deeper in the forest and see if they’re glowing in any of the darker spots.”

“Got it,” Pidge says, and they follow Allura further into the forest, giving a particularly rambunctious plant a wide berth.

Lance looks meaningfully towards Hunk, hoping Shiro pairs them together.

“Keith, you go with Lance toward the river, see if they like damp ground better.”

“Roger,” Keith says, looking pleased. Lance slumps in on himself. Shiro is an incredibly biased leader.

“Hunk, you’re with me. We’ll stick in this general area and continue to look.”

“Sounds good,” Hunk says, and Lance turns and forlornly follows Keith towards the river they can hear in the distance.

For a good minute or so, they don’t say anything as they walk through the forest, and Lance hopes it’ll stay that way. The plants are pretty rowdy, so they should probably be concentrating on them more than having a particularly moving conversation.

But once the river’s in sight, Keith clears his throat meaningfully. Lance ignores him, pretending to concentrate on the vine snaking its way toward him on the ground.

“Lance,” Keith finally says, once it’s clear passive throat-clearing isn’t going to get him to speak up.

“Huh?” Lance says, acting as if he hadn’t noticed.

Keith just sighs. “We really need to talk,” he says.

“Maybe my memory’s a little fuzzy, but didn’t we do that last night?”

“No,” Keith says. “You avoided talking about it as if we didn’t just have a conversation where you admitted that you repress stuff.”

“For good reason!” Lance says defensively.

“ _My problems are my own_ ,” Keith says, mocking him, and he makes his voice deeper in order to do so, which makes no sense. Lance’s voice is higher than his.

But, “They are!” Lance says. “And besides, I wasn’t having a real problem anyway. Sometimes I just get sad for no reason when I drink.”

“Lance, I’ve seen you drunk tons of times. You’re a happy drunk. And sometimes a flirty one.”

“Maybe you’ve just never seen me sneak off to cry before,” Lance points out, even though Keith is right. He really isn’t a sad drunk. Normally, he’s having too much fun to concentrate on any negative feelings.

“Yeah right,” Keith mutters. He kicks a rock, and it flies into one of the plants, which immediately reaches for Keith. Lance tugs him out of the way, swatting the plant aside before they come to stop at the river’s edge. The water is more green than blue, but it trickles past them lazily, bumping over rocks and logs that have been in the river for who knows how long. “I don’t want to press you on this, ‘cause you didn’t force me to talk when I was upset, but I really feel like you need to stop holding it in. I think it’s good to talk about these things.”

“Maybe I’m just homesick,” Lance says, deliberately not looking at him. He kneels at the edge of the river before plunging his hand into it. It’s icy cold, despite the air being warm, and when he picks up a rock, there are tiny slug-like creatures clinging to the bottom of it. Those aren’t the bugs they’re looking for, though, so he puts it back. Keith joins him, sitting on the ground, and together they take turns reaching into the water and searching for the bug.

“If that’s true, then tell me about them,” Keith says gently. “You don’t need to miss them all on your own.”

Lance looks over at him, and Keith’s squinting at a bug he’s holding. It looks kind of like a grasshopper. And Lance feels this rush of warmth for him. He looks utterly repulsed, but he’s holding the bug carefully. His expression shouldn’t be cute, but it is. And Lance shouldn’t be lying to him.

But he is.

“My mom was the best person on Earth,” Lance says. Keith glances over at him, surprised. “She had so many kids — five of us — and she tried so hard to make time for us all. We’d go on trips as a family, but every Sunday, one of us would get a special me-day with Mama.”

“That’s adorable,” Keith says, his voice soft. Lance huffs out a laugh, looking back at the river.

“Yeah,” he says. “I was the fourth kid. Both my brothers are way older than me, but my sister is only two years older than me, so there were some years where we were in school together. And then my other sister is five years younger than me. She was wild,” he laughs.

“Probably still is,” Keith says, bumping him with a knee.

“Totally,” Lance says. “My oldest brother taught me to surf. And my sister, Veronica — she’s a genius. Half the time I wouldn’t even Google things I was curious about; I’d just call her and be like, ‘Ronnie, why is the Leaning Tower of Pisa leaning anyway?’ and she’d be like, ‘Is this seriously why you called me at 2 a.m.?’”

“They sound great,” Keith says.

“They are,” says Lance. Neither of them are really looking for bugs anymore. They’re just sitting there, talking. “I really miss them. I write them letters, sometimes, even though they’ll never get them.”

“They’ll appreciate it,” Keith assures him. “One day you’ll see them again, and they’ll have all this proof of the adventures you went on. They’ll love it.”

“Yeah,” Lance says, but he swears his heart shrivels up inside him. Maybe his friends will give them his letters, one day. “I’ll have to introduce you to them. They’ll love you. God! When they find out you’re part alien—” he snorts, and Keith punches him, albeit lightly.

“Is that all you were upset about?” Keith says softly.

Lance is nodding. But despite this, his mouth says, “No.”

Keith looks surprised. He opens his mouth, but no words come out. He just blinks.

“There’s more,” Lance says, and he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He can’t tell Keith about his prophecy. He can’t even imagine repeating those lines aloud.

_Time is short_   
_That which you fear approaches_   
_Death knocks at your door_

Lance swallows. He tries to avoid thinking about it, but the words ring so clearly in his mind, as if that seer is saying them herself. He can’t imagine telling Keith, telling any of them. Can’t imagine what their faces would look like. What they would say. What they would do.

But he has to tell Keith _something_ , and he has to tell him now. And it’s not like there aren’t other things he could tell him. Other things he’s desperate to get off his chest, just once.

He doesn’t want to die, that’s just obvious. But the thought of dying without Keith ever having known how he felt — somehow, that feels even more unbearable. And he knows that he shouldn’t say anything. Keith’s prophecy basically warns him not to. But he’s been selfless for so long. He’s abandoned his life and home and fought in this war. He’s kept the only secret that really matters, the one that would devastate all his friends.

So why can’t he be selfish for once?

Lance swallows. Opens his mouth. Hesitates.

“I’m in love with you.”


	12. true friends stab you in the front

Lance doesn’t know how to describe Keith’s expression. Surprise doesn’t even begin to cover it. He looks like he’s frozen, and Lance, who was relatively calm while telling the man he loves that he loved him, begins to panic. His heart thunders in his chest and his breath stutters in his throat. Every inch of him feels drawn tight, in a state of suspension, just waiting for the moment of release.

But Keith is silent. Completely still. Maybe he’s in shock.

Until, “Lance,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. His expression looks soft, which Lance thinks is a good sign. He didn’t realize how hot he felt until this very moment. He’s sweating.

“Keith,” Lance mocks, letting himself smile a little. Keith smiles back, but just for a second. Then he sighs.

“You know now’s not a good time,” he says softly, and scratch that, Lance isn’t hot. He’s burning up. He’s mortified, and he wishes he wasn’t sitting on the ground. He needs to be pacing. His body’s suddenly full of energy, and he wants to sprint away.

“Okay,” Lance says. He needs to just. Curl up and die.

“Not because — not because I don’t care about you, too,” he says, reaching forward and grabbing Lance’s hand. They’re both wearing gloves, and they’ve definitely held hands like this before, pulling each other up a steep hill or maybe running hand-in-hand away from a ravenous creature on a planet without sigal. But never quite like this. While they’re just sitting there. After Lance has confessed his feelings.

“Right,” says Lance. His voice comes out stiffly, and it’s because he’s trying to hold back all the emotion in his voice. The heartbreak. He’s gripping Keith’s hand maybe a little too tight.

“Our prophecy,” Keith reminds him.

“Don’t open up for just anyone,” Lance quotes dully.

“Exactly!” Keith says. “I just — I think we need to avoid any sort or romance until this timer runs out,” he says. “I thought we were on the same page about that.”

Lance shakes his head. “What if it means the opposite?” he says. “What if now is our only chance? _Your love draws near, but may fail to reach you_ ,” he stresses.

“I’m sorry, Lance. But I really think it’s the opposite, and I don’t see the harm in waiting,” Keith says, squeezing his hand. “It’ll feel like no time at all, and then we won’t have to worry about this stupid prophecy controlling any of our actions.”

“Right,” Lance says, and he clears his throat before getting to his feet, shaking his hand loose of Keith’s. “Like no time.”

Keith smiles at him. “Thank you for telling me,” he adds quietly.

“Yep,” Lance says, but he turns on the heel of his foot and hurries back to the clearing Shiro and Hunk are in. It feels like there’s a knife in his stomach. One Keith had twisted with every word. He feels embarrassed and sad and just — alone. As alone as he’d felt last night.

Sure, Keith hadn’t rejected him outright. But he hadn’t said he’d loved him, either. And what’s worse, he wants to _wait_. Lance can’t imagine it’ll be any easier to love a corpse.

He was wrong. He should’ve died with this secret close to his chest, not out in the open. It’s only going to make Keith feel guiltier, in the end.

He sighs, closing his eyes as he takes another step, feeling like a giant rug has been yanked out from under his feet. And then, as if he willed it to happen, he’s lying flat on his back. He must’ve trodden on one of the plants, and it wrapped around his ankle and yanked him to the ground.

Lance struggles, trying to crawl backward, but another plant reaches for him, curling around his arm. Keith isn’t too far behind him. He would probably hear if Lance shouted for help, which he definitely should. Two other plants have reached him, one wrapping around his knee and another squeezing his middle, but he presses his lips together.

He’s already embarrassed enough. He can’t imagine having Keith come and save him from this stupid situation.

The plants are trying to yank him in different directions, and Lance groans. They’re stronger than they look. They’ve got him in places where his armor doesn’t quite cover, and he can feel them digging into his skin, cutting off his circulation. A fifth plant twines around his neck, squeezing, and Lance sees black spots dance across his vision.

Good. Now he can’t call out for Keith even if he changes his mind.

He struggles on the ground, pulling with all his might against the plant that’s trapped his right arm. He gets it close enough to his hip, and his bayard materializes in his hand. Lance would let out a sigh of relief, if he could.

Instead, he just fights against the feeling encroaching on him, like he’s going to pass out, and transforms his bayard into his blaster. He aims blindly above his head, shooting twice until the plant around his neck goes suddenly lax.

He gasps for breath, shooting the sources of the other vines that are wrapped around him, and one by one, they stop struggling to rip him apart.

Coughing, Lance gets to his feet, his head throbbing from the lax of oxygen. Just then, a bug darts out of one of the bushes he disturbed, and Lance’s hand shoots out. He snatches the bug out of the air, before cupping his hands together and pressing his eye against the gap between his fingers.

After a moment, the bug begins to glow.

Lance lets out a laugh, more disbelieving than genuinely amused. With that, he returns to the clearing, his body full of aches and pains, and presents the bug to Shiro, skillfully avoiding his inquires of where Keith is.

\--

The next day, things aren’t much better. For Lance, that is.

Everyone else is in high spirits, excited to get off the Castle and see what the Jiigsew is all about. With the precious firefly in their possession, Allura’s confident that they’ll win them over in no time, so they plan to make their descent today.

Lance is determined to get a handle on his emotions. By the grace of God, he’s barely seen Keith since the embarrassment of his life. Keith eventually returned to the clearing, but by then, Lance was already climbing aboard Blue with Allura. He was the first out of his lion after returning to the castle, and he immediately ensconced himself in the room in order to hide for the rest of the day.

His body is littered in red marks, evidence of the attack he suffered from those stupid plants. They’re sore and sensitive to the touch, but Lance hasn’t attempted to sneak into a cryopod. He kind of likes that he hurts on the outside, too. It’s fitting.

Keith’s trying to catch his eye, standing across from him on the bridge, but Lance pretends to be listening intently to Allura’s speech. She’s going on about respecting the Jiigsew’s customs and how to properly present their gift. Lance nods occasionally, proving just how hard he’s paying attention.

By the time Allura’s done talking, the Castle has landed on the planet.

Citizens of Jiigsew surround the Castle, all chattering loudly over one another. Allura greets a man with green skin, and then they fall in step behind him, maneuvering through the pathway left open by the crowd toward the glimmering palace. Lance stands between Hunk and Pidge.

The crowd is thickest by the palace, and the people of Jiigsew are cheering. It’s abruptly silent once the doors close behind them, though, and then all that can be heard are their footsteps on the marble floors. No one speaks.

Not until they reach the throne room, anyway.

“In respect for your culture, we’ve brought you a gift,” Allura announces in lieu of greeting the king. He looks pleased. With that, Pidge steps up. They hold a jar aloft, and inside is a seemingly innocuous bug. That is, until it flutters its wings and begins to glow.

A gasp rings around the room. The king stands, quickly making his way down the steps.

“It is truly the Fly of Fire,” he says, and Lance instinctively looks to Keith, already grinning. He meets Keith’s eyes, who’s grinning back at him, and it’s not until that moment that Lance remembers he’s been ignoring Keith. He quickly looks back to the king. “Certainly, this will be enough for your team to enter the Trial of Trust. That is our culture’s only requirement for an alliance.”

“Then we will gladly do it,” Allura says, but Lance is frowning. A Trial of Trust, huh? Why does it seem like every planet has some stupid task for them to do in order for them to be on their side? It doesn’t make sense. They face a much better chance of survival by allying themselves with Voltron. But they’ve been doing this for a long time, now. Most planets require something stupid from them, and Lance bets its some kind of pride thing.

“Excellent,” the king says, grinning. “Please, let my aides escort you to your rooms in the palace. The Trial will begin in the morning.”

“Thank you,” Allura says, and they follow the servants that break out of formation to lead them away. Lance finds himself walking next to Hunk.

“Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” he mutters.

“Because nothing ever goes according to plan,” Hunk retorts. “Honestly, I’d be more worried if you had a _good_ feeling about it.” Lance snorts, and he ignores Keith when he turns over his shoulder to look back at them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry 🥺
> 
> iN MY DEFENSE,,, you all should've known that nothing good comes from a confession so early in one of my fics ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> i love u all and i'll fix it soon pls don't yell at me. I'M BABY
> 
> (next chapter is. Pretty Fun 👀)
> 
> BYE SEE U TOMORROW


	13. "everything buried gets dug up eventually"

Lance wakes up to banging.

They were each escorted to their own rooms along the hall, and Lance can’t say he minds it. His bed at the castle isn’t bad — it’s a million times better than what he slept on at the Garrison — but the people of Jiigsew really know how to pamper their guests. The beds are huge and fluffy, and Lance is surrounded by no less than seven pillows.

Though it was dark last night, Lance can now see a brilliant view out of the wall-to-ceiling windows. He’s laying face down on the bed, drool crusted on his chin serving as proof of a good night’s sleep, and he pushes himself up with a grumble. The comforter and sheets surrounding him are white, making his skin seem much darker against it, even though he hasn’t gotten consistent sunlight since he was on Earth.

And there, ever-changing on his wrist, is his number. 19. It doesn’t seem real. Time seems to be slipping through his fingers.

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

“Coming!” Lance croaks, and he rolls out of the bed and stumbles to the door, entirely convinced that it’s much too early, even though he doesn’t quite know what time it is. Lance opens the door, standing there in his T-shirt and boxers, expecting to see one of the king’s aides.

Instead, he’s greeted with Keith.

“Oh,” Lance says. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Keith says. He doesn’t seem sure what to focus on. Lance sees his eyes dart up to his hair, which is definitely messier than Keith’s ever seen it, before flicking down to his legs, and then finally up to his face.

Keith knows he loves him.

The thought slams into him, as if it was ever likely he was going to forget that, but he’s reminded of it at full force. It’s so weird, having your feelings out in the open like that. Much too vulnerable.

“Is it time to go?” Lance asks, and Keith clears his throat.

“We have like 15 minutes,” Keith assures him. “I guess you didn’t wake up when the aides knocked on your door.” And then, after they both just stand there for a few seconds: “Sorry, can I come in?”

“Uh, yeah,” Lance says. “Wasn’t gonna shower anyway.”

Keith follows him into the room, and Lance closes the door behind him. Lance steps into the bathroom, and Keith lingers in the doorway, looking unsure, but when Lance doesn’t close the door, he ends up following. Toothbrushes and toothpaste were provided to them in the rooms, and Lance is already brushing his teeth by the time Keith decides to speak.

Looking in the mirror, Lance can see red lines on his face leftover from sleep. Keith looks much too put-together, standing next to him like that.

“I thought we could talk about yesterday,” Keith says tentatively, meeting Lance’s eyes in the mirror. Lance spits in the sink.

“I think we’ve shared more personal conversations in the last few days than we have in the last few years,” he jokes, and Keith cracks a smile.

“I realized that maybe I was a little cold to you. I don’t know. And then you were avoiding me…”

Lance decides to bite the bullet. “I’m no expert, but I think it’s probably pretty commonplace to avoid the person who rejects your love confession.”

Keith, who’s already pretty damn pale, goes even whiter, somehow. So Lance takes pity on him.

“I’m not mad at you,” he promises. “And I get what you mean. This prophecy… it’s scary, and I don’t blame you for interpreting it the way you did. You could easily be the one who’s right about it. There’s no way to know.”

“I guess,” Keith says. “But I don’t want you avoiding me for the next nineteen days,” he says, glancing at Lance’s wrist. “I mean, what if you…” he trails off, and Lance snorts.

“What if I fall out of love with you?” he says. It’s getting easier to say, each time he says it. Also, it’s making Keith go red. That’s a good look on him. “Trust me, I don’t think that’s going to happen. I’ve felt like this for a long time.”

“Okay,” Keith says, but it looks like he’s fighting back a smile. When he meets Lance’s eyes — directly, this time, not in the mirror — Lance smiles at him, and he smiles back. “So. Friends?”

“Of course,” Lance says.

“For the next nineteen days,” Keith tacks on.

“Yeah? And after that?” Lance says, playing along. Humoring the idea that he’ll live to see a twentieth day.

“Come on, Lance,” Keith mutters, obviously embarrassed. As if having a crush on him is more embarrassing than him knowing that Lance is _in love_ with him. “It’s obvious.”

“Sorry, not so obvious to me,” Lance says, and he points at himself. “Friends for now, and afterwards… boyfriends? Partners in crime? Mortal enemies?”

“Shut up,” Keith says. And then, “the first one. Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Lance says, but he’s grinning. “Maybe we should kiss on it. Just to seal the deal.”

Keith shoves him, and Lance catches his hands. He lets him go after a second, though, and Keith backs out of the bathroom, pointing at Lance. “You only have like five minutes left to get ready, by the way.”

“Thanks for monopolizing my time!” Lance calls after him, but he really couldn’t care less. In nineteen days, he might die. But in twenty days, he might be alive — and that version of him will be dating the love of his life.

Feeling tentatively hopeful in the midst of all his melancholy, Lance makes his way to the great hall with a minute to spare. The rest of his team is already gathered, and they look relieved to see him there on time.

“Wonderful, you’re all here!” the king says, showing up with his guards not thirty seconds later. He settles himself into his seat, and they stand there at attention, waiting for whatever this trial is. “First and foremost, I want to thank you again for your gift,” the king says graciously, nodding at Allura.

“It’s our pleasure,” Allura says. “Relationships are everything to us. We want to honor our future alliance with Jiigsew as much as you might honor the Fly of Fire.”

“Such kind words,” the king praises. “We’re looking forward to our alliance as well. The Trial of Trust is something we do with each of our allies. The truth being one of the most important attributes to our people, we like to show them who exactly we’re allying ourselves with.”

“Understandable,” Allura says with a gracious nod, but she’s standing a little bit straighter. It’s obvious that none of them really know what it is that they’re getting into, and the king’s explanation wasn’t much of an explanation at all.

“The Trial will begin very shortly. In order to commence, you must enter the mindscape. There, you’ll receive further instructions.”

Lance exchanges looks with Hunk, who seems just as unsettled as he does. But seeing as Allura has yet to put a stop to this whole thing, neither of them speak up. Moments later, several aides come out of the room behind the king’s throne, each carrying with them a small bag.

The aide before Lance reaches into the bag, and she motions for Lance to bend closer. When he does, she attaches little beads to his temples before motioning for him to sit, which he does. Once everyone is seated, the king stands.

“Let the Trial begin,” he announces, and everything goes dark.

It doesn’t feel like he’s in the throne room anymore. Carefully, Lance gets to his feet, and once he does, a ball of light appears far above his head. It lights the room just enough for Lance to see the figures of his friends, each getting to their feet as well.

“I don’t like it,” Hunk announces. His voice echoes creepily in the room. Lance sees Pidge flinch.

He feels anxious. That same kind of worried feeling he gets at parties. So he does what he does then, and starts counting.

One — Hunk. Not liking the simulation and yep, Lance is right there with him. To the left of him, Lance can see Allura. Her hair is distinctive, shining in the dim glow of the light above them. Pidge is three, currently with their back turned to the rest of them as they try to take in their surroundings. They shouldn’t bother — the light barely illuminates the group of them, much less anything further in the room.

Shiro makes four. He was the last of them to get to his feet, and the light reflects off his prosthetic arm more than it does from Allura’s hair. Coran — that’s five — is directly across the circle from Lance. His expression’s impossible to make out, but Lance would guess he looks as worried as the rest of them.

Six is Keith, standing directly to Lance’s left, the easiest to make out due to their proximity. He’s frowning. Classic.

And Lance makes seven. And the person next to him—

“Oh fuck!” Lance shouts, jumping toward Keith, who steadies him. His voices echoes half a dozen times, louder than Hunk had spoken.

“What?! What is it?” Pidge demands.

“Eight!” Lance blurts. “There’s eight of us!”

For a second, there’s commotion. Everyone seems to be counting. And then the mystery person next to Lance, oddly still encased in shadows, steps forward.

“Good observation,” it says. “It usually takes visitors much longer to discover the odd one out.”

“Who are you?” Shiro demands. The figure grins. Only its teeth are visible.

“I’m what you might call the Trial of Trust,” it says. “I exist only here, and only to serve this purpose. Shall we begin?”

“I thought we already began,” Pidge mutters, but the figure ignores them.

“The Trial is quite simple. The Trust is amongst those here, and the Truth is what must come to light.” The figure gestures to the light above them. About half of them glance upward. The other half don’t take their eyes off the apparition.

“And how do we do that?” Allura asks.

“One by one, you must come forward and tell me a secret. It must be grave. I’ll know the strength of your secrets, and the worth of them to your team, so do not try to trick me. Who first?”

Everyone looks at one another, wary. Finally, Hunk steps forward. “I’ll go first,” he says.

“Very good,” the figure says. It steps forward, extending a hand, and when Hunk reaches out for it, they both disappear. Pidge gasps.

“Where did he go?!” Lance says, as if anyone would know the answer any better than he does. Only a few seconds later, however, the two of them reappear. Hunk steps quickly back into place in the circle, saying nothing.

“Next?” the figure says, and Allura steps forward. Then Keith, Shiro, Coran then Pidge. Lance goes last, reaching out for the darkness.

When their hands touch, it feels like ice shoots through his body. The light winks out, and Lance would think the light had simply turned off if he hadn’t just watched the rest of his friends disappear in the same manner.

“Lance McClain,” the figure says, its voice seeming to come from all around him. “Your secret?”

“I received a prophecy,” he says. “Back on the planet of seers.”

“Will that be all?” the figure says. “You have no wish to disclose what the prophecy entails?”

“Do I have to?” Lance says, lowering his voice instinctively.

The figure is silent for a moment. Thinking, Lance would guess.

“No,” it decides. “Your truth is strong enough, though your trust is lacking.”

“Yeah, well,” Lance mutters. “As long as that’s good enough…”

“Everything buried gets dug up eventually,” the figure warns him, and then the light’s back. Or more accurately, Lance is back. He resumes his place in the circle, and the figure steps into the center. The light lowers from the ceiling, stopping once it hangs directly above the figure, though it’s still no easier to make out.

“I will now disclose the secrets,” the figure announces. “You may only pursue one, and only that secret will have its owner revealed. You won’t remember the rest of the secrets once you leave the Trial of Trust.”

Lance fidgets. The apparition continues.

“One,” it says. “The lions you pilot have abilities that you know not. The Secret-Keeper hasn’t disclosed this information because they feel you aren’t ready, that they powers they possess might be too tempting for some.”

Instinctively, Lance looks to Coran and Allura, figuring the secret belongs to one of them. Both are stone-faced.

“Two. Each of your weaknesses have been noted with preparations for retaliation made. Mostly in case of any one of you ever being compromised, but partially in case any one of you ever decided to defect.”

Lance frowns. Scans the circle. Pidge looks downcast, and Lance sighs through his nose. It doesn’t surprise him that much. They probably did whatever they did a long time ago, when they all first went to space. Lance doesn’t blame them. War can cause paranoia. They probably wouldn’t realistically doubt any of their allegiances nowadays.

“Three,” the figure continues. “One person here fears the possibility of romantic relationships among the team. They think it could cause discord, whether something drastic were to happen.”

Lance doesn’t look, but he thinks that might be Keith’s answer. Makes sense, anyway.

“Four. One among you fears returning to Earth. They suspect that the enemy might have enslaved the planet, considering the Galra’s proximity to it in the past. Otherwise, they fear that time has passed faster there. That those they knew on Earth would now be gone.”

It feels like the air’s been sucked out of his lungs. He sees a couple people look toward him, but that… that wasn’t his secret. Who was thinking that? What basis do they have for that assumption? Can’t they _check_?

Lance knows time works differently out in space. He’s heard about that weird twin theory, or whatever it is. Something about two twins traveling at different speeds and how one would age slower than the other…

Are they aging slower than their families back home?

The thought is almost too much to bear. The mere notion that they might survive this, only to return to find everyone they knew long gone…

“Five,” it continues, and Lance catches his breath. Ignores it. He won’t — he probably won’t even remember that after this whole ordeal is finished with. Everyone’s probably going to want to know who got the prophecy. “One among your team has knowledge of an impending attack. This knowledge hasn’t been shared for fear of crushing moral.”

Lance looks around at his friends. Who? Who knows about this coming attack? When will it come? In nineteen days, maybe?

“Six,” the figure says. “This person received a prophecy on the planet of seers.”

Someone gasps. Lance doesn’t see who. They all wait. And then the figure says, “Choose which truth you’d like to reveal.”

“But you haven’t said them all yet,” Pidge points out. “That was only six secrets.”

“Correct,” the figure says. “Yet two of your secrets were the same.”

Very subtly, both Keith and Lance stiffen. He has no doubt which two secrets were the same.

“Okay, but what about this battle?” Pidge demands. “That’s the one we should reveal.”

“I disagree,” Allura says. “The prophecy is far more important. Whoever received it is likely in danger. That’s the secret we should reveal.”

“Or the lions,” Keith points out. “If we knew what other powers they have, we could be better prepared for the attack, whether we know if it’s coming or not.”

“But that warning about the lions,” Hunk points out. “If it wasn’t shared for good reason, then maybe we should wait. Maybe we’re supposed to discover it on our own anyway. I think we should learn about the battle.”

“Agreed,” Pidge says.

“Maybe not,” Shiro argues. “Knowing about an upcoming attack might just put us all on edge or throw us off our game. We all kept these secrets for a reason. Likely because we knew the knowledge could hurt someone.”

Lance thinks back on that one secret, about Earth. He finds himself looking at Hunk. Wondering if that was him.

“Plus,” Coran chimes in. “Maybe knowing the prophecy could be helpful for when the battle does arrive.”

“That’s true,” Pidge mutters.

“Not to mention, whoever it is could be on the brink of insanity,” Allura pushes, sounding equally worried and angry. “Historically, those prophecies have done more harm than good. It’s possible we could prevent whatever dangers they incur. Most that suffered the seers’ prophecies never told anyone.”

“And for good reason,” Lance mutters to himself, but it’s quiet enough that only Keith hears him. In the commotion of the conversation, he reaches out and squeezes Lance’s hand. Nobody notices.

“All in favor of the prophecy?” Hunk says, and everyone else is nodding. It’s majority rules.

“May the other secrets be banished from your mind,” the figure says. Lance blinks—

—And six is Keith, standing directly to his left, the easiest to make out due to their proximity. He’s frowning. Classic.

And Lance makes seven. To his right is Shiro, staring eerily at the light.

That’s weird. Before, it seemed like it was above them, but now, it hovers directly in the middle of the circle. And then it rushes toward him, stopping between him and Keith. It feels warm, bathing him in its glow, and his breath catches in his chest.

Everyone is muttering. They know that he has a prophecy — that he and Keith both have a prophecy — but he doesn’t know how they know.

Stupid fucking Trial of Trust. If he’d known that signing up meant revealing that he got a prophecy, he would’ve said something before Allura agreed to it.

“I can’t believe you two,” Allura says, frustration clear in her voice. “After all the warnings I gave—”

“We didn’t go asking for prophecies!” Lance snaps. “It was this creepy old woman, and she asked if I wanted to see my future, and I said _no_ —” He’s breathing heavily, and Keith is standing stiffly beside him.

“You said no?” he asks.

“I— yeah. Didn’t you?”

Keith looks uncomfortable. He shrugs. “I’d… had a bit to drink,” he says quietly.

Allura growls. “The future is dangerous,” she berates them. “We don’t know what’s supposed to happen for a _reason_.”

“Oh my God,” Pidge says. “Keith, is that why you ran away that night? Were you trying to run from the prophecy?”

“I don’t know!” Keith snaps. “Kind of, I guess.”

Allura’s anger is mounting. Lance takes a subtle step further, away from the light, but it just grows to encompass him. It’s growing warmer.

“And what did your prophecy say?” she demands.

Keith is blushing. He opens his mouth, closes it, and looks at Lance. Finally, with a sigh, he recites: “Your love draws near, but may fail to reach you. Don’t open up for just anyone.”

“Oh, Keith,” Shiro says softly, and Keith glares at him.

“Shut up,” he snaps.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Hunk ventures optimistically.

“Whatever,” Keith mutters.

“And you, Lance?” Allura prompts. “What was your prophecy?”

Lance clears his throat. “Same thing,” he lies. “I be keeping my love doors closed. Heeding the advice of the future.”

A second passes. Then two. And then the ball of light grows warmer. Hot. It’s burning, and the light surrounds him, pulling away from Keith. It rushes into him, and Lance is on _fire_. He opens his mouth to scream, but no sounds come out — his vocal cords have ruptured, turned to dust. He’d dying. He thought he had nineteen days, but he was wrong, wrong, wrong, it’s now, he’s dying _now_ —

And then it’s over.

Lance blinks, panting, and he’s sitting on the floor of the throne room again. The mindscape device is in his hand, but he can’t remember taking it off. The rest of the team surrounds him, and slowly, they each get to their feet.

The king is frowning at them. “You failed the trial,” he announces, and his eyes seem to pierce Lance. “You didn’t tell the truth.”

The words seem distant. Everyone is looking at him. Keith looks betrayed, and Lance looks away from him. But Allura’s fury is worse, and he feels like he’s shrinking inside of himself. The air seems thin. It feels like he’s standing on stilts, with how badly his legs are shaking.

“I’m sorry,” Lance mutters. He doesn’t know who to look at. It feels like they’re all seeing right through him.

“You have a lot of explaining to do,” Allura growls.

And although Keith is standing next to him, his arms are crossed, and he’s glaring at Lance. His heel isn’t tapping the floor. Lance told him that they were in this together, and he thought they were, despite their prophecies being different. Despite him keeping that tidbit of information to himself.

He’s surrounded by his friends, his _family_ , but Lance is alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more things be comin to light 😬


	14. horns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BLUGHHH i had such a LONG DAY at work. but i'm finally home, and i can finally post this!!! i hope you guys enjoy it!! i've been loving your comments and seeing everyone's reactions! i hope you all had a great day today!! enjoy!

The room is silent except for the roaring in Lance’s ears. He heard Allura’s question, but he can’t answer it. He won’t.

“What did your prophecy say?” she repeats, her disbelief growing with every second. It’s not like Lance to keep something this big from his team. And it’s especially not like him to continue to keep it from them after being confronted.

Finally, Lance musters up the courage to answer her. “I’m not telling you.”

“You will tell me,” Allura commands, but Lance is shaking his head. He backs up a step.

“I won’t.”

“Perhaps I can be of some assistance,” the king steps in, looking worried. “Please, use today to travel to the Council of Elders, and tomorrow you will be able to meet with them. They are masters of truth, and through them, our alliance can still be forged,” the king says anxiously. It’s obvious he really does want this alliance to happen. Shouldn’t have forced them to do the Trial of Trust, then.

“What, he’ll be forced to tell the truth?” Allura says, not sounding even a little bit against the idea. Doesn’t that violate, like, all kinds of boundaries?

“They have a way of discerning the truth,” the king hedges. “I can give you escorts and steeds. You’ll need them in the tunnels.”

“God, more caves?” Lance mutters, but none of his friends laugh. They don’t even acknowledge him.

No one is on Lance’s side. None of them think that maybe, _just maybe_ , he should have a say in whether they meet some elderly council who are supposedly going to force the truth out of him. He wants to crawl into his bed and cry. Or hop in the Blue Lion and fly far away, go and die somewhere where his friends won’t have to witness it. Like a cat.

But no. Instead, they’re all glaring at him, angrily following their escorts to their steeds. Well, maybe they’ll ease up on the anger once they find out about his fate.

“Last chance, Lance,” Allura says. “We can avoid this journey if you just tell us your prophecy.”

“Have none of you stopped to think that maybe I’m keeping it from you for a reason?” he demands. He looks at Keith. “You know what it’s like to have a prophecy! Tell them!”

“I also know what it’s like to share my prophecy,” Keith mutters, looking hurt. “Why did you lie to me?”

“For the same reason I lied to everyone else,” Lance says, before turning and mounting his steed. The tunnels are connected to the dungeons of the palace, and their “steeds” aren’t so much horses rather than giant cave lizards. They each have a saddle, though, and they appear to be trained, so Lance isn’t too worried.

“Everyone ready?” Rei’a, one of their escorts, says. Everyone agrees reluctantly, climbing aboard the giant lizards.

“Our steeds are fast, but we ride at a slower speed in order to conserve their energy,” Jadok informs them. “They insist on moving as a pack, so there’s no need to worry about getting separated.”

“Splendid,” Lance mutters, and with that, the two escorts take off, the rest of them following behind them.

Lance never would’ve thought this could backfire so horribly. Obviously, the simplest solution would be to just tell his friends about the prophecy. It would end all the arguing, put a stop to whatever bullshit Lance is no doubt about to be subjected to, and allow them to return to the castle. It’ll also make his friends incredibly sad. He can see it going one of two ways:

1\. They accept the news for what it is and are immediately saddened by it. They proceed to treat him like a walking graveyard for the last 19 days of his life, walking on eggshells around him and maybe bursting into tears randomly. Their moral will be crushed. Lance will be surrounded not by the team he knows and loves in the final days of his life, but a cheap imitation of them. And forgive Lance for being a little selfish, but he wants his last days to be as normal as possible. Fun, if they have the time to spare for it. He doesn’t want to have to comfort his friends for the life he’s yet to lose.

2\. His friends completely and wholeheartedly disregard his prophecy. They’re convinced it has a loophole and do everything within their ability to discover it. They spend every remaining day of his life convinced that he’s going to survive, and when he dies, they’ll be blindsided. They’ll have done everything possible, and it won’t have been enough.

So. Lance would really rather keep this news to himself, thank you very much.

“Here,” Allura says, passing Lance a data tablet. He takes it, realizing everyone else has already been given one too.

“What’s this for?” he asks.

“Allura wants us to research prophecies,” Pidge says. “See how many of them had good outcomes.”

“This is just depressing,” Lance says. “I don’t even know how we’re supposed to read these while riding.”

“I’m not trying to be cruel, Lance,” Allura says. “But you hold information that could be critical to the team.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to know our future?” Lance protests. “I thought knowing was dangerous. How is it not smarter for me to keep this information to myself so as not to put any of you in danger?”

“Lance,” Allura sighs, but he’s just getting started.

“What if I’m not the one who does the dumb thing that causes the prophecy? What if it’s one of you guys? What if it’s _you guys_ knowing about the prophecy that causes my fate?”

“What fate?” Hunk says quietly. Even though he’s the one that asks it, the rest of his friends are looking at him just as intently.

“Nothing,” Lance says.

“Just do some research, please,” says Allura, and Lance starts sorting through articles, trying to read despite the constant jostle of riding.

Occasionally, a new article pops up on his page, sent to him by one of his friends, usually with a portion highlighted.

All sorts of people with prophecies, all of them with negative outcomes. People who led to the downfall of empires, who cursed their people, who got others killed. It’s all incredibly depressing, and whatever Allura’s trying to make him do with this information, it’s not working. It almost makes him think that him dying at the end of this would be the best possible outcome, as opposed to the things that happened to these other poor people.

“Hey, here’s a happy one!” Hunk says. “Oh wait, no… She ended up going insane years later, thinking she’d yet to fulfill her prophecy…”

“This one isn’t so bad,” Pidge adds. “I mean, he only went blind.”

“Two prophecies,” Allura mutters darkly. “Can only imagine…”

“Yeah, aren’t you worried about your prophecy, Keith?” Hunk says, glancing over at Keith. Lance follows his gaze, equally curious.

“Not really,” Keith mutters. “It sounds like I’m the only one who’ll be affected. And besides, it’s just about love.”

Right. Just dig that knife in a little deeper.

Lance looks back to his data pad, chewing on his cheek. How can Keith not realize? They both received a prophecy the same day. So what if Lance’s is different? They have matching numbers on their wrists, and Lance straight up told him he was in love with him. Isn’t it obvious that Lance is in some way involved with Keith’s prophecy?

Maybe it is obvious. Maybe that’s why Keith rejected him. Maybe Keith thinks he’s the person he shouldn’t be opening up for.

And God, he’s probably right. It’s just going to hurt Keith, if he actually let Lance in only for Lance to die days later. If he abides by his prophecy, he’ll be better in the long run. More whole.

Still. That doesn’t mean he has to be hurtful. Talk about love like it’s some flippant thing, not someone one of his friends is experiencing toward him at this very moment.

In the distance, there’s a screech. Their steeds slow down, becoming cautious and wary. Lance clutches his data pad a little bit tighter.

“What was that?” Shiro says, squinting into the darkness before them.

“A guide,” Rei’a answers shortly. “The Council is expecting us.”

“I thought you were our guides,” Allura says, frowning.

“For most of you,” Jadok says. “But the dishonest one must go alone. We’ll meet him there.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Lance scoffs. “You want me to go with the screeching thing?”

“You won’t have a choice,” Jadok says. “It’s part of their process. It will help you realize the importance of your truth.”

“You guys hearing this?” Lance says, looking at his friends. Thankfully, they look just as worried as he does. He thought for sure that Allura would just gladly hand him over to a monster at this point.

“I’m not so sure if this is necessary,” Allura says quietly. “Perhaps we can convince him on our own time…”

Rei’a looks back at them, alarmed. “Princess, you should’ve told us this sooner. It’s much too late to get a message to the king _or_ the Council.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Lance says desperately, but then that _thing_ screeches again and it sounds much closer this time. The giant lizard’s tongue flicks out, and it takes a step backward nervously. He pulls on the reins, trying to turn it around, but it only takes a few more steps before halting, already too far from the rest of the pack.

“The Council is good at their job,” Jadok promises. “You’ll realize the importance of truth.”

“Ever heard of keeping a secret from another’s own good?” Lance demands, but it’s too late.

A giant, hulking _monster_ emerges from the darkness. Its body takes up the whole tunnel. It runs on all fours, but Lance gets the impression that that’s only because it can’t stand here. Its body is covered in shaggy fur, its claws knife-sharp and as long as his forearm, and its horns drag against the ceiling of the tunnel, occasionally making a screeching sound. The monster roars, completely at odds with what Lance thought were the sounds coming from its mouth.

“Jesus Christ,” Pidge whispers, just as the creature darts forward and snatches Lance off of his steed. Oh, good, it has opposable thumbs.

“Lance!” It’s Keith who yells it, and Lance looks at him, struggling against the beast. It squeezes him tighter and he goes limp with a groan, gasping for breath.

“Tell it to stop,” Allura demands, but their escorts are already maneuvering around the thing, shaking their hands.

“We cannot,” Jadok says. “It won’t listen to us.”

As if in agreement, the creature roars. At the very same moment, Lance screams, his wrist burning. He struggles against the monster, the pain terrifyingly familiar. The same pain he’d experienced when that seer had grabbed his wrist. Lance knows, were he able to look at his wrist, that it would now say 18.

He doesn’t know how it’s possible. It certainly shouldn’t be. But this creature just tore away one of the precious few remaining days of his life.

“No,” Lance sobs. “Stop it, don’t—”

“What’s it doing to him?” Pidge demands, terrified.

“Impossible to know,” Rei’a says forlornly. And with that, the creature turns and runs. Its gate is loping, one of its limbs occupied with carrying Lance, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Not for the discomfort of its movements and not for the painful grip it has on him.

He doesn’t know what this thing did, but he’ll do whatever it takes to stop it from doing it again.

There’s no telling how long it takes to reach the Council of Elders, but Lance is positive they went a way that those lizards won’t be able to follow. At times, the monster crawled along the ceiling, finding cracks that Lance wouldn’t have guessed existed. They eventually emerge in a great chamber, where five Elders sit waiting for him.

“So. You are the liar,” the Elder in the middle greets him. He looks to be the oldest, and Lance slumps to the floor, right where the monster puts him down. “Heel,” the Elder says to it, and it trots past the Elders, one of them patting its massive head, before it lays down behind them.

“I guess,” Lance rasps. His lungs feel weak and achy, thanks to that thing’s relentless grip, and he’s starting to hate the clothes that were provided for them. His white shirt’s already covered with dirt, and there’s a tear in his pantleg, probably from the monster’s claws. A glance at his wrist does indeed reveal that his number has been changed. He wonders if Keith’s number is different now, too.

“Lying is frowned upon greatly, in our culture,” another Elder addresses him. Her hair falls all the way to the floor, which can’t be good for it, honestly. Lance wonders how she manages to shampoo it all. That’s, like, probably an entire bottle, right there.

“I’m not doing it for fun,” Lance protests. “I’m doing it to protect them.”

“And why should it be up to you to decide whether they can handle this knowledge?” she asks.

“Because I’m the one the knowledge was given to,” Lance says. “It’s not even about them. It’s about _me_.”

“And the things that happen to you won’t affect them?” another Elder asks.

“It’s not like they’ll never know,” Lance says. “They’ll find out when they find out. And until then, they shouldn’t have to worry about it. It’s my burden.”

The first Elder frowns. “This is your last chance to tell the truth,” he says. “I advise you do so.”

Lance just shakes his head.

“So be it,” the same Elder says, sounding colder than before. “The truth will find the light.”

A sword materializes on the ground before Lance. He just stares at it. That’s not his weapon of choice. Also, what the hell is he supposed to be fighting?

But then, several figures step out of the shadows. They themselves look like shadows, and they seem eerily familiar, though Lance can’t quite place what’s so familiar about them.

“Let’s go,” says one of the Elders, and they each stand from their seats, filing out of the room.

“Hold on,” Lance says. “Where are you going? What am I supposed to do?”

“We’re just stepping out for a moment,” an Elder answers. “You need only think about your actions, and what your actions in the future will be.”

The sound of a metal door clanging shut echoes through the room, and Lance frowns at the sword on the ground. Crazy Elders. Old people should never be put in charge.

When he looks up again, the figures have gotten closer. Much closer. They form a ring around him, and Lance looks at them uneasily.

“Um,” he says. “Hey guys. Just doing some introspection.”

An apparition grins, only its teeth visible, and it points to the sword. Very slowly, not taking his eyes off the figure, Lance crouches to pick it up. Once he’s standing again, the figures around him shift. They squat, just a little. A fighting stance.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Lance says, just as the first figure charges forward. This is going to be a very long day.


	15. punishment

Lance jerks awake to a clang. He sits up, his heart pounding, his head swiveling to find the source of the noise.

There, at the door to his room — _cell_ , his mind forcefully interjects — stands one of the Elders. Rafki, he learned yesterday, after hours of fighting. With sweat in his eyes and blood on his lip, the Elders had finally come back, and only then had the indestructible apparitions stopped fighting. Lance’s sword had slipped out of his hand and landed on the ground with a thud.

“You fight to keep your secret admirably,” Rafki had said, his hands laced lightly in front of him.

“Is that what that was?” Lance had asked, panting. He thought he’d been fighting for his life, ridiculous as that may sound. Instinct, he’d guessed. What would have happened if he’d succumbed?

“Of course,” another Elder — Jon’ya — had said. “Haven’t you noticed anything odd about them?”

At that, with the apparitions finally fighting him no longer, he’d examined them. He’d thought there was something odd about them, originally. Something that’d poked at his subconscious in the light they absorbed, in their icy touch, whenever they managed to land a hand on him.

“We thought you might have noticed, given your affinity for counting.”

There were six of them, all eerily familiar…

“Yes,” Jon’ya had said. “They’re your friends.”

That were scarily accurate, when Lance thought about it. They’d fought just like his friends.

But, “You know that I count them,” is what Lance had said. “What else do you know?”

“A simpler question would be what do we _not_ know,” Rafki had said.

“Are you going to tell them my prophecy, then?”

“No,” Jon’ya had said. “The truth is weakened, coming from others.”

That was some classic, ‘we are other-worldly and wise’ bullshit if you asked Lance, but he didn’t care. Not when it meant he could keep his secret, if he got through whatever else they had planned for him.

After that, they’d escorted him to his “room.” It’s vastly different from the one he’d had back in the palace, with zero windows, a bed worse than the one at the Garrison, and bars for a door.

Yep. Literally a cell.

“Your friends are here,” Rafki says now. That monster must’ve taken the shortcut of all shortcuts, if they’re just now arriving.

When Lance stands, his entire body aches viciously, and he slips his shoes on before following Rafki down the hall, back to the chamber he’d first met them in.

When he enters, he finds his friends seated on either side of the Council. Some of them gasp, and it’s not hard to guess why. He must be a horrible sight. He’s definitely covered in dirt, and his clothes are stiff with sweat and blood. He doesn’t even want to think about what his face and hair look like.

“Oh, Lance,” Allura whispers, her voice carrying across the room.

“Once again, we offer you the chance to tell the truth,” Rafki says, after taking his seat with the other Elders.

And maybe — _maybe_ — Lance would’ve seriously considered it had they not forced him to fight unbeatable apparitions for hours and then stuffed him in a cell — a remarkable way to spend one of the last nights of his life, truly — but now, there was just no way. Sure, Lance doesn’t want to subject his friends to the abject terror of his imminent death, but much more importantly than that — _now it’s personal._

So he glares at the stupid Elders, before stating very clearly, “No.”

Jon’ya nods. “That’s what we thought you’d say,” she says. “Let us know when you change your mind.”

Once again, the apparitions appear. The same ones as before, though its eerier now, knowing they imitate his friends. He reaches for the sword before it’s even materialized, and he raises it and drops into a fighting stance at once.

“Oh, and one more thing,” Rafki says, and the lights go out.

Lance scoffs. “Very funny,” he says. “Turn the lights back on.”

“They are on,” Rafki says. “You’re simply blinded by your lies. Tell the truth, and you’ll regain your sight.”

“You’re kidding me,” Lance says, and he hears the scuffle of a footstep behind him. He spins around, swinging his sword out wildly, and he stumbles when it connects with nothing. “I can’t fight like this,” he snaps. “I don’t even fight with a sword!”

“You need to put an end to this,” Shiro mutters.

“I know,” Allura says. And then, “Please, I appreciate your affinity for the truth, but this really isn’t necessary.”

“It’s necessary for the Trial,” is all Rafki says.

“What Trial?” Allura demands, but Lance is forced to stop listening. He feels something brush past his side, and he strikes out again, missing a second time. One of the figures darts past him, and pain explodes against Lance’s ribs, but he can’t connect with the target. Not when he can’t see.

He growls in frustration, spinning and attacking wildly, but they dodge all his attacks. And then:

“Your left!” Keith shouts. Lance doesn’t even hesitate. He just turns and strikes, and the sword collides. It won’t have done any real damage to the apparition, but it’ll halt its attacks for a few moments.

The others start helping him after that. They call out instructions, and Lance responds. Less of them land any blows on him, but soon Lance is panting with exhaustion, the battle just as unrelenting as the day before.

“They’ll appreciate your candor,” one of the Elders calls out.

“Appreciate my di—”

“Lance!” Shiro reprimands, and Lance stabs wildly, landing a blow with sheer luck.

“Sorry, Shiro,” he says, grinning now.

“Fine then,” the same Elder replies. “Hear the same truth that they do.”

The next moment, the world goes silent. Lance stumbles to a stop. He starts to call out but stops once he realizes he can’t hear his own voice. Can’t hear anything.

Panic builds. He can’t see, can’t hear…

God, it will stop soon, right? This can’t last forever, it can’t—

Lance groans, flinching away from a blow, and stumbles directly into someone else. Something strikes his head — a fist, probably — and Lance is sure he’d be seeing spots if he could see anything at all.

“Stop,” he says, hoping it doesn’t come across garbled. “This isn’t fair. This isn’t — I can’t—”

He cries out, bending over with a punch to the stomach, and another sends him to the ground, where he curls up. He tries to crawl away, but it’s impossible, and for a moment, the pain is overwhelming. But slowly, the attacks lessen. Lance lays there, gasping for breath, wondering if the Elders called them off. Whether they’ll return his hearing in order to inform him.

Something touches Lance’s side, and he flinches away. But it returns, just as gentle the second time, and Lance stills. Carefully, he reaches out, and a hand grips his, pulling him slowly into a sitting position.

Not for all the gac in the world in the world could Lance tell you how, but he knows, without a doubt, that this is Keith. He leans into him and presses his face against his neck. A hand comes up to rub his back, and Lance clutches him a little tighter, shaking in his hold.

He’s scared. What if the Elders don’t give him his senses back? What if he spends the rest of his (admittedly short) life unable to communicate with his friends? What if _this_ is the reason he dies? Because he wasn’t willing to open up?

But it all feels a little less scary, a little more manageable, in Keith’s arms. He smells the same, Lance realizes.

And then, feeling like a miracle, his hearing returns. It’s berating, at first. But he can hear the sound of fighting, and Lance realizes it’s his friends — they’re fighting off the apparitions for him. One of them must be fighting two at once, seeing as Keith’s currently otherwise occupied.

“I can hear again,” Lance whispers, sitting up and reaching for Keith’s hand. Keith grabs it, and Lance holds it tight, waiting impatiently. The next moment, his sight returns. And Keith is — God. He’s just like always, really.

His eyebrows are pinched in concern, his mouth turned down in a little frown. It must be obvious once Lance’s sight returns, because Keith immediately meets his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and Lance just nods. Tugs Keith into another hug.

“I’m sorry,” he says tightly. “I shouldn’t have lied to you. I- I should’ve told you, I just—”

“Hey,” Keith interrupts him. “Not now, okay? You don’t have to tell me like this. You don’t have to tell us at all, if you don’t want to.”

Soft, gooey, overwhelming emotion floods Lance. He presses his face into Keith’s neck. Sighs. “I love you,” he tells him again. Because it’s already out in the open, and Lance might as well say it as many times as he possibly can.

And then, so soft, so fleeting, that it might not even have been real — Keith’s lips press against his forehead.

“Turn. Them. Off!” someone grunts, and Lance finally takes a moment to look around. His friends are all fighting — Shiro against two of the apparitions, Coran fist-fighting the Keith-sized one, Pidge piggy-backing the fake-Hunk and the real Hunk also battling two. Allura stands before the Elders, Lance’s abandoned sword held before Rafki’s throat.

“I said this wasn’t necessary, and I meant it,” she growls. “If Lance is hiding the prophecy, he’s doing it for a good reason. I realize that now. And if he tells it to us, it should be because he decides to, not because he was forced to. I trust him.”

Just like that, the figures stop. They dissolve.

“Congratulations,” Rafki says. And then there’s pressure at Lance’s temples, and when he blinks, he’s staring at one of the king’s aides in front of him, holding the mindscape device. The rest of his friends are coming-to as well, and the king sits exactly where Rafki sat. “You’ve passed the Trial of Trust,” he says.

Lance looks down at himself. The aches and pains are gone, and his shirt is pristine again. He feels strange — that way you do when you wake up from a dream, realizing that what felt so real wasn’t real at all.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Pidge says, looking around at the rest of them.

“Hold on a minute,” Hunk says. “I thought — didn’t we fail?”

“No,” Allura says, looking pissed. Even more mad than when she’d found out both he and Keith had been hiding a prophecy. “That was just part of the simulation, it turns out.”

“The Trial is complex, and different for everyone,” the king admits. “You were under for less than a varga.” Hearing this, Lance peels down his sleeve to look at his wrist. He’s not surprised that it no longer says 19. He lost two days in one hour — one from the monster that stole a day from him, and one from when the clock struck midnight, stealing another.

“I don’t understand,” Shiro says. “We didn’t even have Lance tell us his prophecy.”

“Exactly,” the king says gleefully. “You decided to trust that he would tell you on his own time.”

Allura’s standing now, her nostrils flared. To someone who doesn’t know her all that well, she probably looks perfectly put together. Maybe even vaguely polite. But to _them_ , they can tell she’s fuming.

“Very well,” she says shortly. “The alliance welcomes you, and we look forward to speaking with you in the future.”

“Much agreed!” the king says. “Jiigsew would be happy to see Voltron return at any time. You put on quite a show,” he adds with a chuckle. Lance exchanges looks with Pidge, both of their expressions dark. No doubt that journey of suffering was likely projected to the entire planet. Hooray.

Allura spins on her heel, and the rest of them stop dallying, getting to their feet and hurrying after her. She’s marching to the Castle-Ship, hardly waiting for someone to guide them through the crowd. People part for her automatically, possibly because of the pure anger she’s radiating, but they’re cheering, nonetheless.

The second they reach the Castle, Lance is already preparing his speech. Coming up with apologies and excuses and anything that might earn him sympathy points. But when Allura turns around, she doesn’t wait for him to speak. She just strides forward and pulls him into a hug.

“Oh,” Lance says quietly, carefully hugging her back.

“I owe you every apology,” Allura whispers, gripping him tighter. “What those Elders did to you — it’s just… _it_ —”

“Wasn’t real,” Lance interrupts her. “It’s fine.”

“It is not fine,” Allura says, stepping away. “It felt real. And I shouldn’t have let my emotions get away from me like that. I _do_ trust you, Lance. It’s my fault you ended up in that situation.”

“I’m not keeping this from you guys to be mean,” Lance says, looking at them all. “But you’re right about the future. I told that seer I didn’t want to know it, and she told me anyway. I wish I didn’t know it. And I don’t want you guys to have to know it either.”

“That’s heavy,” Hunk says.

“He’s right,” Shiro adds. “That’s quite the burden to bear. Honestly, you don’t have to handle this alone, Lance. We’re a team.”

Lance smiles. That’s… almost a weight off his shoulders. They don’t know what they’re offering to hear. They don’t know the knowledge he holds — knowledge that could crush them. And despite that, they’re still willing to let him share it.

“I’ll think about it,” Lance promises. “Although maybe for now, we could focus on Keith’s prophecy,” he adds slyly.

“ _True_ ,” Pidge says. “I totally forgot about his with everything that was going on with you.”

“Please continue to forget it,” Keith grumbles, but Shiro darts forward, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

“Not happening,” he says, ignoring Keith as he tries to shove him off. “Who would’ve thought _you’d_ get the prophecy about love?”

“I hate you,” Keith grumbles, and Hunk laughs.

Lance meets Keith’s gaze — he looks grumpy and discomfited — but his expression softens, slightly, when he looks at Lance. And for now, that’s good enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY we're past the cliffhanger chapters ajldkfja. i'm SORRY for the way that worked out i was just trying to make each chapter's content line up with the prompt that went with it and That happened
> 
> also, for anyone who might be confused, when the team "woke up" from the simulation the first time, they didn't really wake up -- they were still in the simulation. so everything that happened from chapter 13, when they went into the mindscape, til now, was part of the simulation. that's also why lance found those apparitions so recognizable. they were the same kind of thing as that apparition they met in chapter 13, but none of them remembered meeting it since it wiped itself from their minds along with their secrets
> 
> OKAY that's all for now goodnight!!


	16. a child's laughter

“Is this really necessary?” Keith says weakly, the last one to walk into the room.

Lance had said the same thing, just moments before. Sure, it was practically his suggestion, but he hadn’t expected anyone to take it seriously.

In light of everything that happened on Jiigsew, Allura’s decided that Keith’s prophecy is the one they should be focusing on. She trusts Lance’s judgement and his decision to keep his fate to himself, but given that Keith handed over his own prophecy the moment he was asked, she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

Now, his prophecy is written on the board before them in flowing script. It looks much less sinister in Allura’s cutesy handwriting.

Keith sits down next to Lance, looking queasy. Lance pats his knee comfortingly under the table.

“I only want to go over your prophecy so that if it comes to occur, we won’t accidentally miss it,” Allura says. Lance looks at Keith out of the corner of his eye. Neither of them have mentioned that they have a sinister countdown embedded in their skin, and from the looks of it, Keith doesn’t look like that’s something he’s going to mention.

Lance doesn’t blame him. He’s already getting enough attention as it is, without some kind of due date hanging over his head.

“Lance, I trust you’re paying close attention to your prophecy as well?” Allura says lightly. She’d ended up coming to Lance’s room late last night, haunted with guilt, and Lance had ensured her that she was forgiven.

“Shit happens,” he’d said with a shrug.

“No,” Allura had said fiercely. “I should’ve put a stop to it sooner. Not just when that monster showed up, but as soon as the king mentioned forcing you to tell the truth. We didn’t fail the trial because you lied. We failed because I didn’t trust you.”

Lance hadn’t known what to say. He’d just cleared his throat and looked down at his feet, shrugging a second time.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” she’d continued. “I just want you to know that I truly regret my actions.”

“Princess,” Lance had said. “I forgave you the second you held an Elder at sword-point.”

Allura sniffed. “He wasn’t even real.”

“Felt pretty damn real,” Lance had laughed, before pulling her into a hug.

“Very close attention,” Lance assures her now. “I promise I won’t miss it.”

“Okay then,” Allura says, stepping toward the board and underlining the word ‘love.’ Keith groans under his breath. “First and foremost, we should try to dissect the meaning of this prophecy.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Pidge says.

“Not at all,” Allura argues. “’Your love draws near,’” she quotes. “This line alone could have multiple means. ‘Your love’ could refer to someone who loves Keith or someone he himself loves. And ‘draws near’ — that could mean in proximity _or_ time.”

“Given that he shouldn’t ‘open up for just anyone,’ I’d guess that it’s someone who loves him,” Pidge points out.

Lance sinks down in his seat, his face burning. Keith carefully refuses to look at him.

“You guys are putting too much thought into this,” Shiro says. “I’m pretty sure it’s just saying that Keith needs to be picky about who he loves.”

“No way,” Hunk scoffs. “It’s warning him that he might miss his chance for love! If it ‘may fail to reach him’ then he should be keeping his eye out for it!”

“But ‘don’t open up for just anyone’—”

“I really don’t think it matters,” Keith interrupts, speaking over them. Lance silently prays to disappear. “None of it will make sense until after it happens. What’s the point of worrying about it now?”

Allura frowns. “I guess just being prepared for it…”

“But it’s my fate,” Keith argues. “We should be focuses on more important things. We can’t change the future, so why even bother trying to decipher the meaning?”

“Keith’s right,” Pidge pipes up. “Us worrying about prophecies is what got Lance into that whole mess yesterday. Let’s just forget about it for now.”

Everyone starts murmuring in agreement, and Allura steps away from the board, though she doesn’t erase it.

“I guess you’re right,” she says. “I just don’t want anything horrible to happen because of these prophecies.”

“Nothing horrible is going to happen,” Keith assures her. Lance shifts uncomfortably.

Finally, the meeting is dismissed. Pidge and Hunk immediately scoot closer, likely about the discuss Keith’s prophecy at length, despite Pidge saying there was no point.

Lance stands up immediately, ready to escape the discussion of prophecies, and he ends up following Keith down the hall.

“Hey,” he says, making Keith stop. “Can I see your number?”

Keith frowns. “Is that how you told girls you were interested in them back on Earth?”

“Okay, I know you didn’t have a phone, dude, but seriously—”

Keith’s grinning, and Lance stops his rant before it can truly begin. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Keith says. “I know that’s not how anyone asks for a number.”

“I’m way smoother than that,” Lance promises. “Had I not considered you my absolute rival, I would’ve wooed your socks off.”

“Yeah? Prove it,” Keith says, leaning against the wall. He crosses his arms. “Ask for my number.”

Lance immediately takes up a stance beside Keith, pressing his shoulder against the wall and looming into Keith’s space.

“I can’t find my phone. Mind if I call it?”

“That’s deceitful,” Keith scoffs.

“Give me your number and I’ll give you a ring,” Lance says. “Get it?”

“Disgusting.”

“Do you have a favorite number?” Lance asks.

“Three,” Keith says.

“Mine is yours,” Lance says.

“You like three, too?”

“No, I mean — _your_ number— you’re fucking with me again, aren’t you?”

“These are all horrible,” Keith says, and Lance scoffs, grabbing his wrist and dragging him toward their rooms.

“This last one is good,” he promises. “Okay? Just bear with me.”

“Whatever you say, Lance,” Keith says.

The door slides shut behind Keith and Lance rifles through his bedside drawer, pulling out a deck of cards. He shuffles them expertly, Keith raising an eyebrow at his antics, and Lance spreads them, holding them out facedown.

“Pick a card, any card!” he says dramatically.

“Don’t tell me you know magic,” Keith says, grabbing a card anyway.

“Unimportant,” Lance says. “Memorize it? Put it back anywhere.”

Keith sticks it right back in the middle, and Lance shuffles the deck again. He flips the cards over, examining the deck with the ultimate concentration. Finally, he begins laying them out on the bedside table. Ten of them.

“Do these cards mean anything to you?” he asks.

“I only picked one card.”

“Not what I asked,” Lance says, shoving him.

“No,” Keith finally says.

“It’s my number,” Lance says, grinning. “Please, call me anytime.” Then he pinches the ends of the cards he’s still holding, causing them to fly up into the air around them. He’s grinning, and Keith is just shaking his head in disbelief.

“You never got anyone’s number, did you?”

“Come on!” Lance whines. “That was good! Don’t lie!”

“I only would’ve said yes if I was already interested in you,” Keith says.

“Perfect,” Lance says. “Then it would’ve worked.”

Keith gapes at him, his face slowly reddening, and Lance just grins, flopping back on his bed. “You can’t tell me I’m not charming.”

“You’re full of yourself.”

“I’m full of charm,” Lance corrects him. “Show me your wrist now?”

Keith rolls his eyes, but he pulls down his sleeve to reveal the number on his wrist: 16.

They still match.

Lance purses his lips. So they really are connected, then. Somehow. Keith’s number didn’t just randomly coincide with Lance’s — it’s genuinely connected to it. Whatever Keith’s prophecy really means, it’s linked with Lance.

Either he’ll be free to safely love after Lance’s death, or time is ticking away for his love to reach him.

“We lost two days, in that simulation,” Keith says.

“I know,” Lance breathes. “How is that fair at all?”

“It’s not,” Keith says, sitting down next to him. “But it’s seer magic. There’s bound to be something weird about it.”

“Imagine if we’re both just totally wrong about our prophecies,” Lance says, staring at the door. _Death knocks on your door._ It is pretty ambiguous, Lance has to admit. The prophecy doesn’t say whether Lance will _open_ the door. Just that the threat is there.

Once again, he finds himself thinking about Celafait, that girl from the Cave of Curiosity. Whenever he thinks of her, he clings to hope a little bit harder. There’s no real harm in that, at least. He could spend this countdown hoping for a good outcome. If in the end, he doesn’t die, he’ll be glad he didn’t spend such a long time despairing for no reason. And if in the end, he _does_ — well. At least he won’t have spent the last days of his life in a state of terror.

“Your prophecy’s a lot scarier than mine, isn’t it?” Keith says quietly.

“I don’t know, dude. Love’s pretty scary,” Lance jokes, elbowing him.

“Not for you,” Keith says. “You’ve already said you love me, like, three different times. You should’ve gotten my prophecy.”

“I was terrified, the first time,” Lance admits. “I didn’t know if it would change everything.”

“Didn’t you hope it would?”

“Not if it changed things for worse,” Lance says. “You might’ve told me you didn’t feel that way at all. Or things could’ve just gotten weird between us. Or you could’ve decided to avoid me until all this prophecy shit is over with.”

“Then why did you decide to tell me?” Keith whispers. “If you were scared.”

Lance grabs his hand. It feels like he’s overstepping his boundaries. Like this is something he should only be allowed to do if Keith were to initiate it. But Keith doesn’t stiffen, and he doesn’t try to drop Lance’s hand, so Lance intertwines their fingers.

“I just wanted you to know,” Lance says. “It felt like it was eating me alive, keeping it to myself. And it’s easier to say, now that I’ve already told you. I guess it isn’t so scary, after the first time.”

Keith squeezes his hand. “I hope you’re wrong about your prophecy,” Keith says. “It’s clear you want to be.”

“Yeah, well…” Lance says, shrugging.

“If it makes you feel better, you’re wrong about a lot of things,” Keith jokes. “Us being rivals. Me rejecting you. You being good at getting someone’s number.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Lance says, releasing Keith’s hand in order to shove him. Keith rolls with the momentum, reaching toward Lance’s bedside table.

“I’m pretty sure I saw a data pad in here with your deck of cards,” he says.

Lance scoffs. “Whaaat? I wouldn’t steal one of those.”

Keith opens the drawer anyway, and he returns with the stolen data pad. Sue him, Lance likes to read late at night, sometimes. (Actually, don’t sue him. He still only has about seven gac.)

“Set up a movie,” Keith says, placing the data pad on Lance’s lap. “I always end up accidentally putting on a horror.”

“You seem the type to like horror movies,” Lance says, navigating to the movie screen anyway. He recognizes several of the covers, if not the words inscribed on them. There are a few movies he really enjoys, despite the fact that none of them have subtitles. But you can pick up quite a lot based on tone, music, and body language, so it’s not impossible to enjoy a movie you can’t understand.

“No,” is all Keith says. “I don’t like them very much.”

“Well then stop clicking on the ones with dark and creepy covers,” Lance snorts. He picks one of the ones he watched a while back, remembering it to be pretty good. Maybe one day he’ll get Pidge to add subtitles. They’ve done a pretty good job with other media on the castle, like books and the words projected on holograms, with Allura’s help. They’ve all picked up a bit of Altean by now, but it’s not nearly enough to make the movies comprehendible.

“Is this a good one?” Keith asks, sinking down against the wall.

“Yeah, you’ll like it,” Lance promises. He snags a pillow and props the data pad up against it, before leaning into Keith’s side. So what if he wants to watch a romance while cuddling up with the guy he’s in love with? You can take the guy out of a romance, but you can’t take the romance out of a guy. Or something like that.

They’re only halfway through the movie when Lance nods off. Keith’s arm wound up around his back at some point, and Lance didn’t even have to put it there himself. He’s warm and comfortable and his heart feels about three times bigger than normal, so sleep comes naturally.

But at first, Lance can’t tell whether it’s a dream.

He’s back in that chamber with the Council of Elders, and shock radiates through his body. _I’m still here?_ he thinks, scared and in disbelief. Will they ever really wake up? How many days is he going to lose, stuck in this stupid Trial?

Still, the Elders are nowhere to be found. And then something moves in the darkness — an apparition, probably. It’s shorter than any of the ones he saw before. He can just barely make it out, and he silently urges it to come closer, to step into the light. To prove that it’s darker than the shadows.

He’s already looking around for the sword, prepared to fight it, but there’s no sword present, and the figure doesn’t come any closer. In fact, it backs away from him.

“Wait!” Lance finds himself calling out, and his legs are moving before his brain’s quite caught on. He’s following it, stepping into the shadows as it leads him away.

It’s a kid, he realizes then. It’s too short to be anything else, and when it looks over its shoulder, light glances off its eyes, just for a moment.

The apparitions didn’t have eyes.

“Come back!” Lance says, speeding up now. He’s following a real, actual child. What’s a kid doing in space? A human kid, from the looks of it.

The boy giggles, running faster, and Lance is panting now. He can’t run fast enough, and he’s losing him.

The boy turns a corner, and when Lance flings himself after him, he’s forced to stumble to a stop, his feet skidding against the ground before he can propel himself over the edge of a cliff. Pebbles spray under his feet, tumbling over the edge and clattering to the bottom of the pit after a few, long seconds.

“Help,” someone says weakly, and Lance’s breath catches in his throat. He gets to his knees and crawls to the edge, seeing the boy hanging from a ledge just below the edge of the cliff. With a shock, Lance realizes the boy is him. Him, as a kid.

“Oh my God,” he says, pressing himself flat to the ground as he extends his arm as far as he can. The boy — _him_ — reaches for his hand. Their fingers touch for a second, but Lance can’t get a grip on him. He’s too far.

“Hold on,” Lance says, scooting further over the ledge, reaching farther. They reach for each other a second time, but the boy slips.

And then Lance is the one falling. Wind rushing past his ears and heart thundering in his chest as he reaches for a hand no longer within reach—

“Lance!” Keith says, and Lance jerks awake, panting. Keith has one hand on his shoulder, the other interlaced with his own. The same one he’d been reaching out with, in his dream. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Lance says, blinking wearily. “Just a creepy dream.”

“The movie finished,” Keith points out. “You fell asleep.”

“Did you like it?” Lance asks, yawning.

“Yeah,” Keith says.

“You romantic,” Lance accuses him, but he drags him to his feet anyway, stretching. “C’mon,” he says. “I’m starving, and our friends haven’t gotten the chance to badger us about prophecies in several hours, now.”


	17. playing with fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pretty short chapter today, but it's ooey gooey fluff, so enjoy!

The pillar is sturdy behind Lance. Cool against his back. Ice clinks in the drink he’s holding.

How is it that he’s found himself here again?

Okay, well, _logistically_ , he knows how. They got a call on the communication system, and Allura answered. The king of the planet asked if Voltron would be able to come by, not for an emergency, but for a celebration. Apparently, they’d just successfully completed some mission Allura had assigned to them, and they wanted Voltron present for the party.

Allura said yes, and that’s how they’re here.

But it still doesn’t feel right. To be standing in the same hallowed halls where he received his prophecy.

This time, instead of being dressed in their Paladin armor, they’re all wearing formal attire. The king gave some big speech at the start of the evening and they’ve been participating in the festivities ever since, albeit in a slight state of fear. No doubt everyone else is slightly scared they might get a prophecy they don’t want, and Lance and Keith are scared they might run into that same seer.

They’d gotten to talking about that night. About the seer who gave them their prophecies.

By the sound of things, it was the same old lady for both of them. But while Lance had received his prophecy at the end of the night, thankfully when he was already drunk, Keith had gotten his at the start of the night. After hearing about his future, Lance had panicked for approximately twenty seconds before running into Keith and immediately getting his act together. Keith, on the other hand, had to spend the entire night trying to act normal. Lance has no idea how he’d done it. It was everything he could do just to make it back to his room that night without breaking down.

He’s trying not to think about it, though. About that fact that people here can see his future. About the fact that, likely, somewhere in this crowd, is that same seer who put a countdown on his wrist.

“Dance with me,” Lance says, sidling up to Keith.

“I can’t dance,” Keith says.

“Me neither. Dance with me.”

“Why me?” Keith says. “Allura’s actually good at dancing. And Hunk’ll do anything to make you happy.”

“Did you miss the part where I’m in love with you?”

Like always, Keith’s face goes red.

“You’ve got to stop saying that so casually,” he says, already reaching out a hand.

“Never,” Lance says. “I like making you blush.”

Keith scoffs, and he starts to retract his hand, but Lance snatches it before he can do so, and then he’s dragging Keith to the dance floor.

“We’re both going to regret this,” Keith says. “I’m going to step on every single person’s foot.”

“And I’ll step on your feet as payback for all those poor people,” Lance says. He pulls Keith closer to him, one hand on his waist and the other gripping his elbow.

“The team’s going to talk,” Keith continues. “They’ll probably berate us. Say we shouldn’t tempt my prophecy like this.”

“‘Opportunity knocks once, but temptation leans on the doorbell,’” Lance quotes.

“What’s that?”

“Some old quote,” Lance says. “Temptations are hard to ignore, basically.”

“Well, that’s obvious,” Keith says, winding his arms around Lance’s neck. “Look what I’m doing now.”

“Dancing,” Lance says, grinning. And they are, even if it’s just a tiny shuffle along the dancefloor. “And look! You haven’t stepped on anyone’s feet yet!”

Keith purposefully trods on his toes, then, and Lance snorts, pulling him just a little bit closer.

“I want to kiss you,” Lance murmurs.

“Lance,” Keith says quietly, his voice half reprimanding, half… _not_.

“I know,” Lance says. “I won’t. But I want to.”

“I still can’t believe you like me,” Keith says. “ _Me_.”

“Me neither,” Lance scoffs. “I mean, you’ve got that horrible hair and that angry scowl. Don’t even get me started on your personality.”

He leads Keith along the dance floor, grinning. He has one hand on his back, now, and when Keith rolls his eyes and shakes his head, Lance reaches up to brush the hair out of his face. He almost convinced Keith to let him braid it, earlier. Almost.

“You’re a dick,” Keith says.

“That’s what you love about me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh yeah? Then what _do_ you love about me?” Lance teases.

“Your sense of humor is the first thing I picked up on,” Keith says seriously, and Lance stumbles a little bit. He wasn’t expecting an actual response. “But then I was like, sure, he’s funny, but this is a war. He needs to be more serious.”

Lance sighs dramatically. “Never did learn to do that.”

“You did,” Keith says. He’s taken the lead, now, and Lance lets him. Follows in his footsteps. “I just didn’t notice it at first. But when I did, I felt like an idiot, ‘cause you’re pretty serious about everything. Just in a lighthearted way.”

“You flatter me,” Lance mutters. He can’t think of anything else to say. Can’t think of a joke to make.

“You’re the spirit of Voltron,” Keith presses. “You’re… the _heart_. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“Me neither,” Lance says. He’s just a little bit taller than Keith, and he presses his words into his hair. It smells like apples, and Lance gets the absurd urge to giggle. Keith uses apple-scented shampoo. “But if you don’t shut up, I really am going to have to kiss you.”

“Fifteen days,” Keith promises.

“Can’t wait,” Lance says, and somehow, it almost doesn’t feel like a lie. When it comes time, he’ll do what it takes to survive. He’s not going to give up without a fight.

He _can’t_ give up without a fight. He’s so close to everything he’s wanted for so long. Dancing with Keith, flirting with him so openly… it feels like playing with fire. If he’s not careful, he’ll get burned.

But Keith’s flirting back. That’s obvious. And Lance realizes, for the first time, that Keith must remember that drunken night of his, where he’d said they would kiss at the end of their countdown.

Lance crosses his fingers behind Keith’s back. Half because he’s hoping he really will be able to kiss Keith at the end of this, and half because he’s pretty sure he just lied to Keith. He _can_ wait. He’d wait for years and years to kiss Keith, if it meant he’d have more time with him.


	18. "i'd say you make my heart pound, but, well... you know."

Lance forgot this planet had a big clock in the main hall. It tolls loudly at midnight, and both Lance and Keith slow for a moment. Have they really been dancing that long?

“They’re looking again,” Keith mutters, and Lance spins them around, peering in the direction where Keith’s eyes had been locked.

Yep. There they are.

Their teammates, known for dispersing at parties only to gather at the end when it’s time to leave, are all standing together, staring in their direction. They noticed slowly, at first.

After just a couple minutes of dancing, Lance had spotting Pidge, standing there with a pastry of some sort halfway to their mouth, which was gaping open. Lance had adverted his gaze and led Keith deeper into the crowd, hoping to ignore it.

But soon after, Keith had spotted Pidge speaking fervently to Hunk, both of their gazes locked onto them. And it only escalated from there.

The two of them found Shiro, who found Coran and Allura, and now they’re all together at the edge of the dance floor. No matter where he and Keith go in the crowd, they can’t seem to hide from their gaze.

“We’re going to have to stop dancing eventually,” Keith says. Lance never would’ve considered himself a dancer, but having been able to be pressed up against Keith for the last few hours, he’s considering taking up a new profession.

In all seriousness, they’ve yet to leave the dance floor because they know the moment they do, they’ll be bombarded with questions and accusations from their friends.

“Maybe we should make a break for it,” Lance says. “We dance to the opposite end of the crowd, and then we run.”

“Won’t work,” Keith sighs dramatically. “They know where we live.”

Lance snorts, smiling despite himself, and he makes eye contact with Allura. She looks scary.

“Maybe we should just get this over with,” he says. “It’s not like you’re in the wrong, anyway.”

“You say that like _you’re_ in the wrong.”

“Well,” Lance says. “I probably am. I confessed to you, knowing your prophecy.”

“But you interpreted it differently,” Keith points out.

“But I knew the way you interpreted it,” Lance says. “And I said it anyway. It was selfish.”

“Lance, you’re the most selfless person I’ve ever met,” Keith says seriously. He takes a step away from Lance, gripping his elbows and looking into his eyes. Most of their conversation has been spoken into each other’s ears, with their gazes fixed on the aliens dancing around them. With Keith’s eyes locked onto his like this, he feels frozen in place. They’re the only two people not moving on the crowed dance floor. “If telling me you love me is the most selfish thing you’ve ever done, then I’m okay with that.”

“You’re a sap, Kogane,” Lance says. “I’d say you make my heart pound, but… Well — you already know that.”

“Shut up,” Keith says, but he releases Lance’s elbows, and Lance unfreezes. “Come on.”

Together, they make their way off the dance floor. Lance feels strangely empty. He’s been dancing with Keith, _connected_ to Keith, for the last few hours. It feels weird, neither one of them leading the other.

“So, you finally got tired enough to take a break,” Allura says, once they stop in front of them.

“And you guys never tired of watching us,” Lance quips.

Allura sighs. “You know what I’m going to say.”

“Yep. And we’ve thought up two arguments for every one of yours,” Keith lies, and Lance snorts. Pidge is grinning, no doubt entertained, and Shiro looks half pained and half amused.

“What you’re doing is dangerous,” she says. “Keith’s prophecy is so vague. And I don’t want to discourage closeness between members of our team, but when it comes to Keith…”

“Allura,” Lance says seriously. “I’ve danced with everyone here before. There’s no denying that.”

“It’s true,” Coran pipes up. “One time, Lance challenged me to a dancing competition at a banquet. He even taught me a sacred dance move from Earth.”

Lance can’t help it — he grins.

“Coran…” Shiro says, sounding tired. “Just — what was this dance move?”

Coran dabs. Lance fights down his laughter with everything in him, biting his lip to hold it in.

“You know, I think I have a few more I could teach you,” Lance says weakly, his voice a few octaves higher than normal, and Coran straightens, grinning.

“Splendid!” he says.

“Regardless,” Allura interrupts. “You’ve never danced with any of us like that. This was different.”

“You’re right,” Lance says. He straightens his back. Shrugs. “It’s ‘cause I’m in love with him.”

Objectively, the room is quite loud. There’s a dull roar of chatter, hundreds of people participating in hundreds of conversations. The music swells, and laughter from the dance floor is near constant. Even still, the silence that falls over their little group is deafening.

“Lance—" Allura says, shocked. Each of his friends are sporting the same struck-stupid kind of look. Lance exchanges a glance with Keith, who’s used enough to hearing it by now that his mental facilities are still working.

“I want to say that that’s _gay_ ,” Pidge says, the first one to reboot their brain. “Which it is, but also, that’s cute as fuck.”

“Language,” Shiro says weakly. He’s just staring at Lance. His gaze flicks to Keith, and it softens slightly. He closes his mouth.

“Oh my God,” Hunk says. “When we were playing that drinking game — Keith! He’s the one you were in love with!”

Now Lance is the one blushing. “Uh, yeah,” he says.

“Look, it’s no big deal,” Keith interrupts, setting a hand on Lance’s shoulder. Lance didn’t realize he was stiff until he has Keith touching him, which makes him relax at once. “He told me before, and we talked about it. We’re not going to act on it until after this whole prophecy thing is over with.”

“Oh my God, you like him back?” Pidge says, grinning. They’re bouncing very slightly on their feet. Lance never would’ve expected them to be such a big supporter. In his mind, if he and Keith had ever started dating, it would’ve gone something more like this:

They’re sitting on a couch together in the rec room, watching a movie. They’re not doing anything nefarious. Even their cuddling is PG. But Pidge walks into the room, pretends to throw up upon seeing them, and marches right back out.

Allura would be all mom-like and responsible. She’d lecture them about taking their duties seriously, remembering that the fate of the universe comes first, all that jazz. But she’d also be totally endeared by them. You know, after they’d proved that they could date and save the universe at the same time. And she’d totally tease Lance constantly. Keith would walk out of a room and Lance would be staring after him with a stupid expression on his face and Allura would kick his shin and ponder aloud about how she hadn’t noticed his feelings before.

Hunk would be so Hunk about it. Constantly pestering Lance for details. Maybe tearing up once in a while, whenever Lance talked about how happy he was. He’d tell Lance that he better be best man at the wedding, all his brothers be damned. Lance would punch him and tell him to shut up, that they’d only just started dating, but he’d be fantasizing about it too.

Shiro would be — God. Terrifying. At first, Lance would be intimidated for all the wrong reasons — he’s practically Keith’s older brother, and he’d probably give Lance one of those terrifying speeches, all _if you break his heart, I’ll kill you. Fate of the universe be damned._ But after that, he’d just be horrible. Way too teasing. Way too snide. Lance would probably avoid touching Keith in front of him. Keith would be way too amused by it.

And then Coran would be all Coran. He’d ask nonsensical questions. He’d say something incredible spot on and clairvoyant, and Lance would wonder if his every thought is just written across his face for him to see.

Yeah. He’s definitely imagined this before. It’s hard not to, when you’re in love with one of your teammates. Lance has come up with all sorts of scenarios in his head. Ones where he and Keith date for months in secret, without any of their friends realizing. Ones where he and Keith are caught kissing by their teammates, everyone shocked and happy for them. Ones where he makes his first move while everyone is watching — just because he’s overwhelmed with feelings for Keith. Where they’d be at some dumb gathering, probably something to do with the coalition, and Lance would stride across the room. He’d tell Keith that he was going to kiss him, and Keith would stand there with his mouth parted, and Lance would have given him plenty of time to run away, if he really wanted to, so he’d kiss him right there, in front of friends and strangers alike.

And, yeah, in that fantasy, everyone cheers.

Strangely, none of his fantasies included telling Keith he loved him, proceeding to not date him, and then informing the rest of the team that he was in love with Keith. Just — having all of his feelings right out there in the open. Go figure.

Allura’s emotions are very clearly warring on her face. One moment, her eyes soften, and her lips quirk up. The next, her face is going steely again, and the leader of the rebellion returns.

“First of all,” she says, “there’s no way of knowing when Keith’s prophecy will play out. You can’t logically wait until it passes, because there’s no telling of when that might happen.”

Subtly, Lance and Keith exchange looks. Lance’s wrist feels heavier than normal, his number weighing him down.

“And secondly… _should_ you wait?”

Lance blinks. “I’m sorry, what was that?” he says, pretending to clean out his ears.

Allura seems to be biting back a smile. “It’s just — you love Keith. Maybe his prophecy was telling him to wait for you.”

“Okay, that’s adorable,” Lance says. “But Keith wants to wait, so. We’re waiting.”

“Again, that could be any amount of time. Years, even.”

Keith sighs. “It won’t be,” he says. “It’s only two weeks.” And he pulls up his sleeve, revealing the number 14.

“You got a tattoo?” Hunk says.

Lance groans under his breath, realizing they’re really doing this, and pulls up his sleeve as well.

“We both got these numbers when we got our prophecies,” he says. “They’ve been counting down with every day.”

Allura goes pale. Pidge immediately grabs his wrist, tugging it closer to them in an attempt to examine it. Lance prays to God that they don’t get any ideas about taking him apart.

“So you are connected, then,” Shiro points out. “You have fourteen days until… what?”

“Until you can love Keith?” Hunk guesses.

Keith points at him, having been following the same train of thought himself.

“Until you _can’t_ love Keith?” Pidge says, looking up at Lance. He doesn’t say anything. But it’s exactly what he’s been thinking, though only because of the knowledge of his own prophecy.

“Do you think your prophecy plays into this, Lance?” Allura says. “You received them on the same day and were both branded because of them. That’s got to mean something.”

“Yes,” Lance says slowly. “I think my prophecy is… involved.” He bites his lip. Now doesn’t seem the time to tell them. He’s been debating it more, allowing them to know what that lovely seer’s words of wisdom were, but tonight’s gone surprisingly well. Despite everything, his friends seem kind of happy for him. They seem to think that there’s a future for him and Keith. He doesn’t want to make them think anything different.

Not yet.

“Okay, this might be insane,” Pidge says slowly. “But like. What if that seer is here tonight?”

“No,” Allura says immediately. “The last thing this team needs is another prophecy.”

“Right,” Pidge says. “But we could just ask for some clarification. What’s the harm in that?”

“I mean, she gave me my prophecy against my will,” Lance says.

“Which is strange,” Allura says. “I’ve never heard of that happening.”

“So we won’t ask for another prophecy,” Pidge says. “And even if she gave one anyway, what’s the worst that could happen? We already have two. And neither Keith nor Lance have done anything _that_ crazy since receiving theirs.”

“Keith ran away,” Lance points out. Keith elbows him.

“He’s done that in the past, though,” Hunk says.

“And Allura went with him,” Pidge adds. Allura crosses her arms, glaring at no one in particular.

“I’m just saying, our future’s already been fucked because of these prophecies. I don’t see the harm in one more.”

There’s a lot of muttering, which escalates to a lot of arguing, which escalates to Allura putting her foot down, saying that no, no way, they absolutely will _not_ be seeking out this seer in order to damage their future even further.

Ten minutes later, Lance stands in front of a familiar door, this time with his entire team behind him. Allura caved.

“Ready?” Lance says.

Pidge looks incredibly invested. It’s hard to deny the intrigue of the future. Lance remembers that night, when the seer had offered to tell him. He’d longed to say yes. His answer hadn’t mattered anyway.

“Is this where you saw her, too?” Shiro asks, and Keith nods.

“I thought I heard something behind the door, and I ended up going inside.”

“I was just looking for a bathroom,” Lance says. And then he pushes open the door.

It looks the same as before, though this time Lance is sober, and he isn’t alone. Again, the hall beyond is unlit. Pidge pulls a flashlight out of their pocket, and Lance leads the way.

The hallway is cold, and his feet follow a familiar path until he reaches the end. “Hello?” he calls.

The seer steps out of the same doorway as before, and everyone but him and Keith jump.

“You’re back,” the seer rasps. “Few return, after learning of their future.”

“Well, I’m a little greedy,” he jokes. Her gaze slides to Keith.

“You’re not lost anymore,” she says.

“Right,” Keith says shortly. She looks at the rest of the team. Nods.

“Yes, your futures are all intertwined,” she says sagely. “Rarely, in my life, have I seen so many futures dependent on one another.”

Lance clears his throat. “We were wondering if we could ask you a question,” he says.

“By all means,” she says, spreading her hands invitingly.

“It’s about Keith’s prophecy,” Lance says. “We want to know whether he should be avoiding love or pursing it.”

The seer chuckles. She lays a hand on Lance’s arm, and it’s cold. “You think to ask of one prophecy, as if it’s not dependent on the other?”

Lance stiffens. Shakes his head. He doesn’t… he doesn’t want that to be true.

“Can’t you just answer?” he says weakly.

The seer stares at him. It feels like she’s seeing right through him. Into his soul. Into his future.

“Of course,” she says. And when she next speaks, it’s rhythmic. It’s a prophecy.

_“Two weeks remain, as all now know_   
_But pain and danger, two fates could sow_   
_Your futures I gave you, of death and of heart_   
_Together, you’ll weather — but weaker, apart.”_

She bows to them.

Weakly, Lance says, “So… we should date?”

The seer just smiles. She takes a step out of the light, and Lance knows she’s gone. Slipped back into that hidden doorway, or something.

“Of death and of heart?” Hunk says quietly. “But… what?”

Lance stands there, deathly still. There’s a roaring in his ears, despite the silence that’s fallen over his friends.

“Keith’s prophecy is of heart,” Pidge says. “Love.”

“So then…” Allura starts, her words slow, quiet.

Lance clears his throat. Spins on his heel. “It’s getting late,” he says. “We should get back to the ship.”

“Lance—” Keith says, his voice pained, but Lance is already walking. It feels like the tunnel is closing in on him. He’s never felt claustrophobic before, but he’s starting to think he might understand. The air feels thinner, down here.

His friends are following him. Calling after him. But when Lance opens the door, it’s clear the party’s ended. People are streaming down the hallway, making their way out of the palace. Lance slips into the crowd easily, weaving between people and making his escape.

He’s the first one back to the castle. He makes it all the way to his room, unhindered. There, he locks himself in his bathroom and turns the shower on full blast, just so he won’t be able to hear it, if anyone knocks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and now prophecies rhyme, apparently


	19. cobweb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> important notes: after having a conversation with hiuythn, we've decided that shiro is a himbo. that is all

Lance becomes the master of avoidance. He would’ve thought he was already pretty good at that, but he finds completely new techniques.

Several times, his friends try to get him out of his room. They call through his door. Allura demands he meet them on the bridge, over the intercom system. They say that he doesn’t have to tell them his prophecy, that they just want to talk, but Lance can’t bear it. He can’t bear looking them in the eyes, knowing that they know what he knows.

Okay, granted, it’s not much. All they know is that his prophecy has to do with death. But he doesn’t doubt that they’ve guessed it’s not _their_ deaths he was warned about. He would never be so cruel, to learn that one of his friends faced the threat of death and not tell them about it. No, his cruelty extends to protecting them from the truth about his own lifespan.

So he doesn’t come out of his room. Not even for meals, though that’s only because he has several sustainment bars shoved in his bedside drawer. And that isn’t because he’s weirdly prepared for the instance of locking himself in his room in the case of extreme avoidance — that just happened because of who he is as a person.

Whenever they go on extended missions, ones where they spend a day or more planet-side and away from civilization, they take prepared food packs with them. The meals are randomized and absolutely disgusting. They’re chock-full or protein and sodium, meant to be as filling as possible, and Lance almost never finishes them. They’re fucking gross.

And so, he usually shoves at least one aspect of his meal away in case he decides to eat it later, which he never does. Meaning he’ll come back to his room after a long mission, exhausted, and some sort of bar will fall out of his suit as he’s undressing. He’s gotten pretty creative about shoving those things anywhere they’ll fit, and he’ll never stop cursing the paladins of old for creating armor without any pockets whatsoever. Honestly, he looks forward to the day that someone tries to summon his med pack, only to find it chock-full of sustainment bars, along with whatever medical supplies were in there to begin with.

So, yeah. Master of avoidance. That is, if you can call being reliably in one place and behind a single locked door a mastery of avoiding people.

Perhaps none of his friends think it is, because they inevitably devise a way to confront him. Lance only lasts one day, locked in his room and surviving on disgusting meals he would almost never voluntarily eat, before his friends force him into talking.

Allura has complete control over the castle, no matter what any of them might think. For example, Lance can lock his door all he wants, but if Allura gets fed up with it, she can easily override the lock on his door.

Truly, Lance thought she had more honor and dignity than that.

He thought wrong.

Lance dreams of a little boat on a wide-open sea. The sun glints off the waves, occasionally blinding him with its brightness, and he lays back on his boat, letting the ocean carry him wherever it desires.

When he wakes up, he’s laying on his mattress in the middle of the bridge. His friends broke into his room, stole his bed with him still on it, and carried him away.

He gets that feeling you get when you stay at a hotel or sleep over at a friend’s house. That moment of, _where am I?_ that hits just a second before your surroundings sink in, and you remember why you’re not at home. Lance got that feeling a lot, his first month out in space. And he gets it now, sitting up and seeing the features of the bridge surrounding him.

“Oh, real mature,” he grumbles, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He sits up and the blankets fall to his waist. He shivers, because yeah, he sleeps shirtless. And he wasn’t expecting to wake up with his friends surrounding him.

“You’re one to talk,” Pidge scoffs.

“Or _not_ talk,” Hunk adds. “Considering you’ve been avoiding us.”

Lance sighs, laying back down and throwing an arm over his eyes. It’s time. And he knows it’s time. He just wishes he didn’t have to do it yet. He wishes he didn’t have to do it at all. That they could all go about their oblivious lives, Lance included, and he could either die or not die on his own time, with none of them expecting it.

“Okay,” he says heavily, staring at the darkness behind his eyelids. He palms his eyes, and little starbursts of color explode in the darkness. Green then purple then pink, rippling into existence. “Okay,” he repeats.

“You don’t have to tell us.” It’s Keith who says it. His voice is heavy, tinged with fear. He can probably guess what Lance’s prophecy holds. He probably wants to hear it as little as Lance wants to know it. But that curiosity will always be there. And Lance’s friends deserve the truth, after all this time. If they want to mourn him in advance, so be it. Maybe he can offer them comfort before he has to go.

“I’m going to,” Lance says. “It’s time.”

His mattress sinks beside him, and Lance uncovers his eyes, finding Keith sitting next to him. He reaches out, and Keith’s hand is already there, gripping his. The rest of the team follows suit, clambering onto his one-person bed and crowding around him.

“I have to admit, I never thought I’d get any of you in my bed, let alone all of you,” Lance jokes.

“Shut up,” Pidge snorts. They reach out to punch him, albeit lightly. Their eyes look sort of teary already. They all know what’s coming.

Lance sits up, squeezing Keith’s hand just a little harder and shoving his free hand under his thigh. He doesn’t know who to look at. Keith, who’s gripping him just as hard. Pidge, who seems to be holding their breath. Hunk, with his lip tugged between his teeth, or Shiro, who looks deathly serious, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Coran, who sits behind Allura, his fingers white on her shoulder as she folds her own hands in her lap, already shaking her head.

He decides to look at none of them. He doesn’t want to see their expressions, when he finally frees himself from his web of lies. So he stares down at his own knees, tenting the blankets. He quotes, “Time is short. That which you fear approaches.” He takes a breath. Thinks he’s the only one to do so. “Death knocks on your door.”

It feels kind of anticlimactic, after all this time.

Even still, silence reigns. No one speaks. He can hear Pidge suck in a breath. Can feel Keith’s death-grip on his hand.

When he looks up, he’s met with his team. Not a hollowed recreation of them. Allura looks determined, Coran saddened. Shiro hasn’t let his expression slip one bit, and Hunk’s lip is quivering. They’re sad, but they’re _Voltron_. They’re ready to fight this with everything they’ve got. And Lance is sure that if they fail, they’re prepared to deal with that, too. To mourn, to fight, and to win the war, so that he didn’t die in vain.

“Fuck,” Keith says. His voice sounds like a growl.

“You’ve got that right,” Pidge mutters darkly. “I can’t believe you’ve just been sitting on that, this whole time,” they say. “How the hell have you been acting so normal?”

“I might die, Pidge,” Lance says. “But I’m not gonna die a different person.”

“Lance,” Allura says, her tone heavy and sad, and Lance opens his arms. She doesn’t reach him first. Suddenly, he’s hugging Hunk and Pidge, and Keith joins and Allura scoots closer and then it’s just a big clusterfuck, everyone squeezing him tight and sniffling against one another’s shoulders.

He’s comforting them, just like he imagined, but it isn’t so bad. They’re comforting him, too. He feels less alone.

“We must keep in mind that prophecies are full of trickery,” Allura says bracingly. “I won’t lie to you Lance, your interpretation could be right, but it is in no way final. Remember that.”

“Sure thing, Princess,” he says. He’s smiling now. They’re just all so predictable. He knows them so well, and he’s glad of it. He’s glad he’s gotten to know these people as well as he has. Who would’ve guessed that five random kids from Earth would run into two strangers, the last of their kind, and those seven individuals would turn out to be the best seven people in the universe? It doesn’t sound very likely, but Lance believes wholeheartedly that it’s true.

“It’s good that you told us,” Allura says determinedly. “‘Together you’ll weather, but weaker, apart,’” she quotes. “We must act as a team.”

“Okay, I interpreted that totally differently,” Hunk says. “I thought it was saying Lance and Keith should date.”

“Yeah, me too,” Shiro says, looking abashed. Lance suddenly feels awkward, holding Keith’s hand.

“I’m not sure,” Pidge says. They suddenly look supremely awkward, looking at Lance with something like trepidation. “No offense, and obviously, I hope I’m wrong, but… What if Keith’s prophecy is warning him against you, Lance? What if he shouldn’t open his heart to you, because you’re just…” they trail off, chewing on their cheek. Lance drops Keith’s hand.

“Going to die?” he says, finishing their sentence. “I thought of that too.” He nudges Keith’s arm, turning to look at him. “That’s why I said it was so selfish to tell you I loved you,” he informs him, ducking his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Keith says gruffly. “You had every right to tell me. I’m _glad_ you told me.”

“Even though I might — _kchh_.” Lance makes a sound at the back of his throat, dragging his thumb across his neck. Keith pales, and Pidge lets out an absurd giggle, slapping their hand over their mouth immediately after. Lance grins at them.

“You don’t have to protect us, Lance,” Keith says seriously. “You don’t have to try to save us from feeling sad or guilty or…” he trails off, gesturing frustratedly when he can’t find the words. “You don’t have to live _less_ just because you think you might not get to live at all. Maybe Hunk’s right. Maybe we should date.”

Lance presses his lips together, raising his eyebrows at Keith. He didn’t expect to find talking about his prophecy and _possible_ imminent death so amusing, but somehow…

Well, never let it be said that Lance couldn’t find the humor in everything.

But, “You don’t want to date me,” he says. “I don’t mind waiting. And if I do die, at least you won’t have to live with knowing what it could’ve been like.”

“I’ll already have to live with that,” Keith says. “I already think about it every day. Again, you don’t have to protect me.”

“I’ll always have to protect you,” Lance corrects him. He looks to his team. “All of you. Just like you would do the same for me. I can’t help it.”

“Fuck the universe,” Pidge says suddenly. “If you die, I’m killing myself. _Suicide pact_.”

Lance snorts, recognizing it as a joke immediately, but both Coran and Allura gape at them, aghast.

“Yeah, me too,” Hunk adds. “We started this shit together, we’ll end it together.”

“Jesus Christ,” Shiro say, pinching the bridge of his nose. Despite his attempt at looking disapproving, he’s grinning.

“Paladins,” Allura says haltingly. “We will do everything within our ability to ensure that Lance survives. But please, I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to kill yourselves. Right, Lance?”

“I don’t know,” Lance jokes. “Suicide pacts are pretty dope. Maybe even if I do live, we can do it anyway. Really seal the deal.”

“Love it,” Pidge says.

“Death knocks on your door? Well _guess what_ , death? We’re at _Lance’s house_ ,” Hunk says, banging his fist on the bed.

“And I’m the one knocking,” Keith joins in.

“Wow, Keith’s totally gonna kill you, Lance,” Pidge says, pursing their lips.

“Nope. I’m just delivering the nooses,” Keith says.

“This is sick,” Allura says. “What is _wrong_ with humans?”

“Humor as a coping mechanism,” Lance says, pointing at her. “I swear to God, my last words will be a joke. Someone better be taking notes.”

“On it,” Coran says, definitely not really understanding what’s going on, but he hurries off to grab a data pad anyway. Lance finally breaks character, laughing harder than he thought he would, and Hunk starts giggling too, even though his eyes are full of tears. Pidge is making a sound halfway between laughter and sobs, and Lance tugs them closer to him, leaning his head against theirs.

“Lance,” Keith says seriously, and Lance tilts his head to look at him. “Date me.”

“Smooth, Kogane.”

“I’m serious,” Keith says. He takes a deep breath, looking pained, and says, “Give me your number and I’ll give you a ring.”

Shiro, honest to God, _guffaws_. Lance has never heard that man make a sound anything like that before in his life.

Lance is grinning. “You stole that line from me, you bastard.”

“It’s a really bad line,” Keith says. “But I don’t know any others.”

“ _We don’t even have phones_ ,” Shiro wheezes.

Looking at Keith, Lance’s gaze softens. He grabs Keith’s hand and tugs it up to his mouth, pressing his lips to Keith’s knuckles. Keith blinks. His mouth is parted just slightly, and Lance wants with every fiber of his being to just lean forward. To kiss him. He probably could, and without any reparations, either.

“I love you,” Lance tells him. So serious. Low and quiet, nothing joking in its nature. He wants the words to resonate with Keith. He wants him to understand just how truly Lance means it, how much he feels it.

"I know," Keith says slowly. “And I—”

“But no,” Lance says, interrupting him. “I can’t date you, because I love you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“God, you’re an idiot,” Pidge mumbles, still tucked under his arm. Keith is frowning at him.

“They’re right,” he says.

Lance grins. “Yeah, they’re always right,” he says. “But my answer’s the same.”

“Just yesterday, you said you wanted to kiss me.”

“And I do,” Lance says seriously. “I want to kiss you and date you and I want to do that for a long, _long_ time,” he says. “Just… once I’m sure that I still have a long time.”

“You’re trying to protect me,” Keith whispers. He doesn’t exactly look sad. He knows where Lance is coming from. And Lance knows where Keith’s coming from, too. He doesn’t know how they flipped like this. They were arguing the exact opposite sides, when Lance first confessed his love.

Keith wanted to wait, and Lance knew that he couldn’t. Now their roles are reversed. Lance wonders what he would’ve done if Keith had responded in kind, that day. If he had agreed to date him.

Maybe Lance knew all along that Keith would say no, thanks to his prophecy. Maybe that’s why he took the chance.

“I guess I am,” Lance says, smiling weakly. Keith rolls his eyes, and when he stands up, he runs a hand through Lance’s hair, just briefly.

“Come on, guys,” he says. “Let’s get Lance’s bed back to his room. And Lance a shirt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all of you guys: omg the prophecy!!! keith and lance can finally be together!!!  
> shiro: yeah i think you guys should be together  
> keith: okay yeah let's be together :3  
> lance:  
> lance:  
> lance: SIKE!!!!!


	20. what's done cannot be undone

Sometimes, Lance is truly amazed by his imagination. Of course, it goes a little far sometimes. He’ll daydream about all sorts of things. When he’s falling asleep, his brain can and will put him into any kind of scenario. He has multiple lives he can enter on a whim, ones where he never left Earth, ones where he returns. Ones where he’s incredibly famous and darker ones, ones where he never returns.

His imagination is a wild thing. He’s thought up scenarios that have brought tears to his eyes and left him laying there, thinking to himself, _why the fuck am I imagining this?_ as if it’s not an actual possibility. And he’s thought up situations that leave him near giggling, his insides fluttering at the possibility. Those ones usually involve Keith.

But sometimes, given the sheer amount of daydreaming he does, he’ll think up a situation that’s spot on. He’ll predict something long before it occurs, leaving him wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the fact that he was able to imagine something completely accurate.

Today is one of those days.

They’re gathered in the bridge, each in their own chairs, as Allura conducts the meeting. Meetings like this have always been amusing to Lance, simply because of the placement of their stations. Don’t get him wrong, they work great in battle — their stations are just far enough apart that they won’t distract themselves with each other’s screens, letting them operate their own droids and calculate their own information free of interference. But during meetings, with all this space between them, it leaves Lance feeling amused.

Maybe Allura conducts meetings here on purpose. So that they can’t lean over to one another and whisper while she’s talking.

Well, jokes on her. They figured out how to use the inter-Castle messaging system during one of their very first meetings. Allura had been up there, pointing at the enlarged hologram that was reflected on all of their screens, when clear as day, a message had popped up.

_Green ßå¥ß ¬œ. ∫∂µ¬?_

It was in Altean, except for the word ‘Green.’ Curiosity, like always, won the battle in Lance. Allura’s words had faded to the background as he’d clicked on the little message, which had opened a chat window.

_Green: poop_

Lance had pressed his lips together, stifling a giggle, and his eyes had slid across the room toward Pidge, who had sat there, stone-faced. He’d clicked the button to pull up the holographic keyboard, and, nodding seriously as Allura continued to speak, had started typing.

_Blue: is this…… what i THINK it is????_

_Yellow: oh. my. god._

_Red: Who is this?_

_Blue: jesus keith r u for real???_

Keith had been sitting there, glaring at his screen.

_Red: Who are you? How do you know who I am?_

_Blue: we’re LITERALLY our colors. is it that hard to guess????_

Slowly, Keith had turned in his seat, looking back at Lance, who had given him a perfectly blank, confused look. Keith’s eyes had widened and he’d whipped back around in his seat. Instead of going back to typing, however, he’d said, “Princess?”

Lance had coughed loudly, shaking his head once Keith had looked at him again. Okay, pretending not to be the person Keith was talking to had obviously been a bad idea. Across the room, Pidge had had their hand pressed to their mouth, and Hunk had been grinning. Keith had given Lance the finger.

_Red: You’re a dick._

_Blue: guilty_

_Green: i’m fucking dead LOL_

_Yellow: this feels like IMing. i feel like a preteen again_

And then, to all of their horror:

_Black: Are you guys seriously texting during this meeting?_

Slowly, all of them had twisted in their seats, turning to look at Shiro, who was glaring at them. Looking Shiro in the eye, Lance had typed:

_Blue: no_

And to all of their amusement, Shiro had started to respond. Typing on the keyboard with his pointer fingers. Lance had snorted, unable to help it, and Allura had turned to look at him, obviously wondering what was so funny.

“Bless you,” Keith had said, and Lance had literally cackled. At the time, it’d seemed totally unlike Keith, to cover for him like that.

Anyway, today is another one of those meetings that Lance would like to underscore with the chat function, but he doesn’t think it’s very likely any of the others will want to participate. Unlike him, they’re all paying very close attention.

“Security measure number seven,” Allura says, swiping the hologram to another page. It’s literally like a PowerPoint presentation. The slide uses a dissolve effect as it goes into the next one. Is he the only one seeing the humor in this? “Someone will know Lance’s whereabouts at all times. As The Day approaches, this will become more and more imperative. It wouldn’t do to be separated from him when the time comes.”

“Should we assign a name to the day?” Lance says. “Otherwise people might not know what day you’re referring to.”

“I think it’s pretty obvious, Lance,” Allura says.

“I’m thinking ‘D-Day,’” Lance says, and everyone groans. Hunk starts arguing immediately, and Pidge says that’s not funny, and Lance rolls his eyes and sinks lower in his chair.

Yeah, he totally imagined this entire day. This daydream functioned as a bullet point in his list titled ‘Reasons To Not Tell My Friends I’m Going To Die.’ Still, he’s already told them, and there’s no stopping them now. What’s done cannot be undone.

The security measures meeting takes well over an hour, with a bunch of added security pertaining to Lance’s safety lectured into them, and after that Shiro ushers them all to the training room. Yeah, ‘cause when the time comes, Lance is just gonna fight death away. _Not today, scary sir with the scythe. I know Kung fu!_

“I thought it’d be good to go over a few different scenarios,” Shiro says. “I think we should all practice with each other’s weapons as well as no weapons. Also, search and rescue missions.”

“Subtle,” Lance says. Everyone ignores him, and Lance has the grace not to suggest starting their search for the next Blue Paladin instead.

First is practicing with each other’s weapons. Everyone practices, but the focus is obviously on Lance. They’re training him to call out for another weapon whenever he’s disarmed, as if he’d ask any of his friends to willingly unhand their own weapon in the middle of a battle. Still, he’s humoring them. If this is what makes them feel more in control, he’s all for it. Plus, you never know. One of these drills really could end up saving his life.

So Lance fights with his gun, allows himself to be disarmed eventually, and calls for a replacement. Two bayards fly at him, only one of them actually back in bayard form, and Lance narrowly dodges Keith’s untransformed sword.

“Keith!” Shiro reprimands. “We’re trying to save him, not kill him!”

Keith looks terrified of himself, and Lance just laughs. He picks up Keith’s sword, forgoing Hunk’s bayard, and continues to fight the droid. He’s definitely worse at fighting with a sword instead of his gun. He did it back in that simulation on the planet of Jiigsew, but Lance would gladly choose a gun over a sword any day. It allows him a moment to breathe. Keeps him in his head. Also, it means he can fight his friends’ enemies for them.

He can’t count the amount of times he’s sniped some guy sneaking up on one of his friends. There’s no feeling quite like downing the guy that almost killed your teammate, watching them take a breath, realize they’re safe, and move on.

Still, it’s not a bad idea to get acquainted with fighting with other weapons. Although, Lance thinks it’d probably be more useful to practice with Galran equipment rather than his friends’ weapons. He’d be much more likely to pick up one of those in battle rather than leave his teammates defenseless.

They move onto close combat, and Lance ends up fighting each of his friends. They fight him harder than ever, which is as exhausting as it is touching. They really, really don’t want him to die. That should be obvious. It _is_ obvious. But it’s kind of cool to see it play out like this.

The worst part of training is having to pretend to be dead. Literally.

There’s no point in hiding what they’re all preparing themselves for, so Shiro just outright asks Lance to be dead weight. He has to let his friends carry him around the training deck while Shiro times them. In some drills they’re lucky enough to “find” his body while with someone else, but in others they’re alone, having to shoulder his weight by themselves in an attempt to get him to “safety.”

Pidge almost has a break down, the only one who really struggles with carrying Lance on their own, and Lance gives them express permission to drag his limb body to safety, if they’re ever to find themselves in that situation. But then he makes everyone stop and expresses the fact that their safety comes first, should this ever happen. He wouldn’t want them carrying him through a battlefield and leaving themselves defenseless. They all promised they won’t, but Lance isn’t sure he completely believes them.

Finally, Shiro calls for a break. He dismisses them for lunch, telling them to take a few hours to relax before they work on some more drills later, and everyone seems to feel pretty accomplished about what they’ve worked on today.

Lance is almost to the door when someone grabs his wrist.

“I was thinking I could give you some pointers,” Keith says quietly. “About sword-fighting.”

Lance isn’t often the one to suggest extra training. He’s sparred with Keith on occasion, mostly whenever Keith asked, and usually because he’s in love with the idiot and wouldn’t say no to spending extra time with him, but the majority of him wants to use his free time to get his chill on.

Even so, Lance finds himself saying, “Sure.”

He and Keith make their way back to the center of the training deck, and Keith transforms his bayard, handing it to Lance.

“Your biggest problem is your stance,” he says. He wraps his hand around Lance’s on the handle before maneuvering behind him. “Your feet are too close together,” he says, kicking the inside of Lance’s foot. Lance widens his stance automatically. “And it’s uncomfortable at first, but you want to be lower. You have more potential energy that way.”

Keith is warm against his back. Lance’s face feels hot, and Keith’s hand settles on his waist when Lance doesn’t comply immediately. He straightens hastily, taking a step away and clearing his throat. When he turns around, Keith’s expression looks perfectly innocent.

“You’re teasing me on purpose,” Lance accuses. He tries to sound stern, but he’s sure his face is betraying him. He’s definitely smiling.

“I’m just trying to teach you sword-fighting,” Keith says. He’s smiling too.

“You sneaky bastard.”

“You can’t just tell a man you love him and then refuse to kiss him,” Keith says.

“Whoops,” Lance says. “Already did.” He sticks his tongue out at Keith. His mind must be stronger than he’d ever imagined, because while his body seems intent on closing the distance between them, he somehow manages to stay where he is.

“You’re gonna kiss me, McClain,” Keith says, pointing at him. “You won’t be able to resist.”

“How bout this,” Lance says, swinging Keith’s sword. It transforms back into the bayard version, which is probably a good thing. He’s likely to take someone’s eye out. “If you can beat my shooting record, I’ll kiss you.”

“Deal,” Keith says, not thinking about it for a second.

So Lance sets up the shooting range. They’ve got stationary targets, moving targets, and pop-up targets. Keith already looks intimidated, and Lance grins as he grabs his wrist and leads him to the other side of the room, setting him up on his stomach.

“Altean guns don’t have a lot of kickback, but there’s still some,” he starts immediately, sitting down next to Keith’s prone form. “You’ll want to press your toes into the ground to keep you in place.”

“Got it,” Keith says.

“I got you a sandbag for you,” Lance continues. “I like to rest my elbows on it, but if the kick’s making you slide back, you can put your elbows in front to help anchor you in place.” He tosses the sandbag onto the ground, and Keith immediately starts punching it into conformity, so he can settle his arms on it more comfortably.

Lance transforms his bayard, handing it to Keith. “This is the safety, and this is the trigger, obviously. Here, you’ve got your front and back sight-posts — you’ll want to line up your target in the middle of both of them.”

“Okay,” Keith mumbles, closing one eye and peering down the gun.

“Keep both eyes open,” Lance advices. “Closing one lessens your field of vision, and you’ll miss the moving targets that way. If you just focus on your target through the sights, your eyes will adjust.”

“Right.”

“Luckily, we don’t have to worry about reloading with Altean weapons,” Lance says. “But the gun can still heat up if you fire too quickly for too long. You got all that?”

“I think so,” Keith murmurs. “How the hell do you prefer this over a sword? It’s so complicated.”

“You get used to it,” Lance says, and then he lays down on his stomach next to Keith so he can get the same sight picture as him. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Keith says, and Lance starts up the simulation.

And it’s not that Lance wants to kiss Keith — well, okay, yeah, he totally does, he’s just using _restraint_ — but he can’t help assisting him.

“Thirty meters, left side,” Lance says. “Swivel the gun, not your arms.”

Keith lines up the shot. Breathes. Misses.

“Fuck,” he says.

“That’s okay,” Lance says. “Shoot after you exhale. Make sure you’re looking through both sights. Next target’s midrange, right in the middle, you got this.”

Keith lines up again. He inhales, fingers the trigger. Pulls it on the exhale, and the target falls down. A laugh bursts out of Keith.

“Yes! Good job!” Lance says, and he points out the next target, then the next one.

After that come the moving targets, some that slide along the ground and others that swoop through the air. Lance coaches him through it all, and with his help, Keith hits a majority of the targets.

The last one is diving toward them, primed for impact, and Keith lines up the shot.

Lance leans closer to him. Presses his lips against his ear. “You’ve got this,” he whispers, and Keith breathes shakily. He stops thinking, and he shoots. Lance’s distraction didn’t work — he hits the target.

Keith laughs, pushing himself up and grinning at Lance. “I did it!” he says, looking ecstatic. Lance smiles at him, feeling like he’s melting. How can one man be everything that Keith is? Hardened by war, by childhood, by the very life he’s lived, and yet so soft and sweet and endearing at the same time?

“Sure did,” Lance says. He looks up at the scoreboard. “And it only took you six minutes more than my worst time!”

Keith gapes, looking up at the hologram. The top ten slots are filled with Lance’s stats, and Keith’s attempt blinks at them to the side of the scoreboard, proving that he didn’t even do better than Lance’s tenth best attempt.

“Better luck next time, babe.”

Keith flushes. “You’re the devil,” he says. Lance darts forward and presses a kiss to his cheek, making him blush even harder.

“For your efforts,” he says, hopping to his feet. Keith scrambles after him, the bayard transforming in his hand as he does.

“I’ll get you to kiss me,” he says, determined as always. Lance looks at his wrist, as casually as if he were checking the time. They’re at 12, now.

“Sure will,” Lance agrees. “In just thirteen days.”

“I don’t get how you’re so calm about this,” Keith grumbles, catching up to him. They exit the training deck side by side. “You’re the one who’s convinced you’re going to die.”

“I’ve already been through the five stages of grief, Keith,” Lance jokes. “I’m at acceptance.”

Keith grumbles something under his breath. Something about _get you to_ _accept this kiss_.

Lance just grins down at his feet, hiding his amusement from Keith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: *receives an angsty-sounding prompt*  
> also me: but what if it was Fluff


	21. fragile

Lance thought his prophecy was the worst thing to ever happen to him. And not to be dramatic, but he was absolutely, horrendously _wrong_.

The worst thing to ever happen to him is Keith and his unrepentant flirting. There’s literally no escaping him. Lance wonders if this is how Keith felt, after Lance confessed his love for him and continued to flirt with him. If he’d just been struggling immeasurably behind the scene of his cool façade.

It’s funny, because Lance’s insides are literally at war. Keith will give him this heated look, or say this off-hand, flirty comment, and the battle will resume. Half of him seems to be trying to get closer to Keith every second. That half will do anything for him to give in, for him to return one of Keith’s quips, stride forward, and kiss him. That half is his bleeding heart, wanting more than anything to unrestrainedly love Keith, to have him, while he knows he still can.

And then the _other_ half of him wants him to get a grip. There’s a chance he’ll survive this, and he just needs to wait it out. And this way, if he doesn’t survive, no harm, no foul. Keith will never have known what it was like to kiss him, to fall asleep next to him, to love him. Lance’s brain belongs to this half, determined to protect Keith from… well, _him_.

But if Lance could live without a brain, he’d surely get rid of it. It’s taking everything in him to not succumb to Keith, to not fall into his arms or pull him into a kiss or grab his face and tell him, _If I have to die, the only good that will come from it is never having to live without you._

So. Maybe it’s a good thing his brain’s there to keep him in check.

Still, his restraint’s growing more and more fragile by the minute. With every look, every touch, every remark, Lance’s heart beats a little bit closer to Keith.

And Keith knows what he’s doing. He’s been incredibly smug. Lance thought he won the upper hand yesterday at the shooting range, but Keith only took it in stride. At dinner, his feet didn’t lose contact with Lance’s for a second. And last night, Keith knocked on his door, wearing pajamas and looking adorably rumpled, in order to ask if he could borrow Lance’s stolen data pad.

Now, everyone’s hanging out together in the rec room. It’s become kind of an unspoken rule, to use their free time to just exist around one another. No one’s said it, and Lance certainly isn’t going to, but they’re all aware that these could be some of their last chances to do so. To just be together and hang out as a team. Complete.

Except it feels weird, too. Not because everyone’s anxiously awaiting Lance’s fate, but because everyone knows that Lance is in love with Keith, and they were all there when Keith asked Lance out only to be rejected.

Hunk tried to talk to Lance, encourage him to go for it, but Lance shut that down quickly. He doesn’t want to be swayed. Pidge, on the other hand, seems to have taken to scrutinizing their every interaction. And Allura keeps looking at them with this air of expectation, as if they’re constantly moments away from jumping each other.

Even Shiro appears to be in on it. They’d walked into the rec room together, the only open seats being the last armchair and a space on the couch next to Keith, and Shiro had swiftly crossed the room and claimed the armchair for himself.

Just because everyone’s expecting something to happen between them doesn’t mean it will, though. Lance is a _soldier_ , he isn’t some weak-willed guy who’s going to succumb to his whims. He’s saving Keith from a world of hurt, if the worst outcome happens eleven days from now.

And if it doesn’t, he’ll date Keith gladly.

“Look at this,” Keith says, leaning closer to Lance and holding out his data pad. They’re pressed together, now, the warmth of Keith’s body seeping through both their jackets and into Lance’s arm. Lance leans against him, allowing himself a moment of weakness, and peers down at the data pad.

It’s a news article from Zertix.

“What’s this?” Lance asks.

“Just thought you’d find it interesting,” Keith says, and he stays pressed against Lance when Lance grabs the tablet from him.

 **From Princess to Cave Master**  
By: Jeveux Mort

_Weeks ago, the tragedy of the Lost Princess was made worse — and then better — with the attack of the Schyckkquivi. Arriving much earlier in the year than usual, their unpredictable presence resulted in the deaths of many and the destruction of the Southern Quadrant of the Capital City. Their arrival alone seemed to be a bad omen for all, maybe even proof that Celafait was dead, but in reality, we have much to thank them for._

_Shortly after their attack began, Voltron arrived just as the legends described — in a blaze of glory. Descending from the sky like a swooping savior, Voltron and the Paladins who pilot it sent the Schyckkquivi far back beneath the surface, where experts say they’ll remain in hibernation for the next year._

_But that wasn’t the end of their heroism._

_Blue Paladin, Lance McClain, bravely volunteered to enter the dreaded Cave of Curiosity after hearing our king’s plea. He descended into the darkness, thought by skeptics to be lost forever, only to return hours later, hand-in-hand with the princess._

_“She’s learned her lesson,” King Raldimay said to the press. “The Cave frightened her, and she’ll know when to tamp her curiosity, now.”_

_Except he was wrong. Whatever Celafait may have said to her father, it wasn’t the truth. She was still enticed by the Cave of Curiosities, and to everyone’s horror, was lost once again mere days later._

_But for a second time, Celafait returned — very much alive. Since then, she’s been in and out of the Cave of Curiosities six more times, along with the Cave of Trust and the Cave of Hope._

_Having been granted an interview by King Raldimay, Celafait revealed why she dared to return._

_“I’m learning a lot,” she said simply. “I guess adults have more to fear than I do.”_

_As for the Paladin who saved her, Celafait doesn’t think he had anything to fear in that cave, either._

_“He ignored the Cave’s temptations in order to find me,” she said. “But that’s not really the point of the Cave. He could’ve followed his curiosity, if he really wanted to.”_

_There’s much to learn from Celafait’s words. Not that we should all go traipsing into the Cave of Curiosities, per se, but there might be some truth there about going after the things we desire._

Lance has never seen himself in a news article before. He’s probably in a couple, back home. _Garrison student missing, body never found_. Or maybe, _Local family continues hopeless search_. Voltron’s definitely been mentioned in some of the article’s he’s come across from the planet’s they’ve visited before, but they’ve never singled him out by name.

“I’m famous,” Lance concludes.

Keith snorts. “I thought that last line was poignant.”

Lance reads it again, having to fight down a smile once he does. Of course that would stand out to Keith. He leans closer to him. “I have told you that you’re a sap, right?”

“And have I told you that you’re insufferable?” Keith says, turning to face him. There’s barely any space between them. Hardly even an inch of space from Keith’s mouth to his own. Lance can feel Keith’s next exhale, and his lips seem to part automatically.

And then the data pad lets out a shrill sound in his lap. In fact, everyone’s data pads are screaming at them. Lance jumps away from Keith, realizing only then that all their friends had been staring at them.

“Perverts,” Lance mutters, before looking down at the tablet. There’s a message flashing on the screen: _Emergency communication._

Allura springs to her feet immediately, no doubt running to the bridge, and the rest of them sprint out of the room automatically. They don’t follow her, instead racing to their own rooms, already suiting up.

Lance is only halfway dressed when Allura’s voice erupts over the intercom, instructing them to get to their lions right away. He yanks his chest plate on, shoves his helmet onto his head, and attaches the braces to his arms as he sprints to the bay.

Blue’s ready and waiting when Lance arrives, and he tumbles into the pilot seat, images of his friends popping up the screen immediately.

“Olkari contacted us,” Allura says before any of them can ask. Pidge jumps into frame, the last to make it to their lion and only now putting on their helmet. “We’re wormholing in ten ticks. Their scanners picked up on a battle cruiser and we’re going to take it down before it reaches its destination.”

“Oh, how I love infiltration missions,” Lance says, just as they’re sucked through the wormhole. The Castle appears out of nowhere, and before them is the battle cruiser. Lance is already itching to go.

“Pierce the hull and enter from there,” Shiro’s already instructing them. “We have the advantage of surprise. They won’t be prepared for our attack.”

“Shut down the engines from inside?” Pidge guesses.

“As soon as possible,” Shiro confirms. “Otherwise, take out the higher-ups. Commander is KOS.”

Getting to the ship is easy. Surprise attacks make it that way, as it’s impossible for the enemy to get many fighter jets out in time. Lance drives Blue toward the eastern hull, bracing himself as her head pierces right through.

The hallway beyond is empty, though it won’t be for long. Everyone has orders to meet in the main deck, and it’s at times like this when Lance is most grateful for the blueprints Pidge managed to scan for them all that time ago. Also, the Galra probably deserve some of his gratitude as well. They’re the ones stupid enough to design all their ships exactly the same.

Already, Galran soldiers are scrambling through the halls, some outfitted in armor and others having moved with too much haste to have gotten properly dressed themselves. Lance avoids fighting them while he still can, slipping down smaller hallways and ducking behind corners whenever they approach. These things always go better when they manage to rendezvous before they have to attack.

Lance finds Hunk first. He must’ve infiltrated along the same side of the ship as Lance, and they grin when they spot each other, both having raised their weapons instinctively.

“Don’t shoot,” Lance jokes, putting his hands up, and Hunk claps him on the back excitedly.

This probably sounds bad, and maybe a little crazy, but they all like these kinds of missions. Ones we’re they’re attacking instead of defending. It’s a never-ending rush of adrenaline, and by the time they get back to the Castle, everyone’s always in high spirits, talking louder and faster than they normally do. All, _did you see that guy drop his weapon when I jumped out behind him?_ and _Keith, when you threw your sword and destroyed three droids at once — holy shit._

The danger nipping at their heels and the taste of metal in their mouths, from running and fighting to the point of exhaustion, is something Lance can barely remember living without. It’s one of the reasons why sometimes, when it’s really late at night, and his thoughts sneak away from him, he doesn’t know if he could ever go back to Earth. Not for good, anyway.

That thought always makes him slightly sick to his stomach, though, so he never dwells on it for long.

“We’re close,” Hunk whispers, peering down the left of the hallway as Lance peeks down the right.

“Clear,” Lance confirms, and they both turn left, jogging silently to the next intersection. They repeat this all the way to the main deck, where Shiro, Keith, and Pidge are already gathered.

“Dammit,” Lance mutters. “Last ones again.”

They slip into the room, mindful of their surroundings. This momentary peace won’t last for long — soon enough the Galra will realize that the blaring alarms aren’t because they’re being surrounded by Voltron, but because the lions have already pierced the hull. Lance doesn’t doubt squadrons of them are already racing back through the ship, having realized it’s too late for the fighter jets.

“Forty-seven seconds,” Pidge says, looking at an imaginary watch.

“Fuck you,” Lance mutters. Shiro waves him off, already gearing himself up for a speech.

“Everyone remembers how to take down the engine?” he says.

“Easily,” says Keith.

“Good. We’ll split up and head down to the engine room through the three main paths. First ones there blow it up, and I want constant communication.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Lance says, and Shiro’s mouth quirks up fondly.

Just then, a blast flies past Shiro’s shoulder, exploding against the opposite wall. Lance spins, bayard already transformed, to find Galra charging from the end of the hall, nearly to the main deck.

“Change of plan,” Shiro says quickly, his prosthetic arm already glowing. “Fight through the crowd, follow the path of least resistance. No one goes to the engine room alone.”

“Got it,” Keith says. He’s crouching, and his energy shield is already up in front of him, his sword held at the ready in his other hand.

“This is gonna be fun,” Lance says, grinning. He holds out a fist to Hunk, who bumps it, and then they both start firing into the crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, desperately reassuring myself for the comments i'm about to get: _it's not a cliffhanger if it's not stressful_


	22. abnormal

Lance hits the button to make his visor disappear and spits a mouthful of blood in the face of his combatant.

“Ugh!” the Galra shouts, moments before Lance’s gun goes off and he tumbles into another Galran soldier. Lance slaps his visor back into place.

The fight’s been quick and vicious. Most fights are, and the only thing that’s different about this one is the sheer ferocity with which everyone’s fighting. They’re fighting as if the number on his wrist is 1 instead of 11.

A shot comes out of nowhere, lighting up in the side of Lance’s vision, and he steps out of the way, though not quite quick enough. The laser hits his blaster, sending it flying end over end through the air with a shock to Lance’s hand. It falls to the ground behind a few of the enemies closest to him.

“Keith!” Lance shouts, ducking the swipe of a Galra’s sword. Lance is gesturing frantically toward his weapon by the time Keith looks, and in the next moment, the red bayard is flying through the air, directly toward him.

Huh. Guess that training did pay off.

Lance snatches it, the bayard transforming back into a weapon once it’s in his grasp, and he starts slashing at the Galra nearest to him, trying to get closer to Keith, who’s now fighting with Lance’s blaster.

A hulking combatant blocks his path, growling into his face when their swords collide, and Lance is glad he remembered to put his visor back down, because spittle soon decorates his visage. The swordsman is good — better than Lance, anyway. He parries Lance’s attacks easily, his growl turning into a grin as he manages to push Lance a step backward.

Lance has only just lost his footing, his balance bad enough for any additional blow to send him to the ground, when the Galra’s eyes roll into the back of his head, a sizzling hole now present in his forehead. When he drops, Keith’s standing on the other side, Lance’s blaster raised.

“God, I love you,” Lance says as they trade weapons.

“Date me, then,” Keith snarls, before spinning back around. They fight back to back, the Galra unrelenting, and the only comfort is the occasional touch of Keith’s shoulders against his own.

Lance snipes a soldier sprinting toward Pidge’s exposed back, and at the same time, someone encroaching in Lance’s space goes down, Hunk shooting him a thumb’s up from across the room.

Heat and then pain slice through Lance’s arm, thanks to an enemy on the other side of the deck, and Lance shoots him twice in the chest as payback. He activates his shield to make sure it won’t happen again, even if fighting with it feels cumbersome.

The rhythm and movement of the battle sinks into his bones. It’s less thinking and more _doing_. Lance fades away and the Blue Paladin takes his place. Fully formed thoughts abandon him. He’s just a pair of lungs, a gun, a beating heart.

The battle is loud. Bodies litter the ground, none of them his teammates. Lance knows this because he counts, even in combat.

Allura and Coran are still on the Castle, fighting off any attacks attempted on their vulnerable lions. They’re safe and accounted for, seven becoming five.

Which means Hunk is one. He’s still on the outskirts of the battle. Still shooting down the enemies that get too close to their friends.

Two is Pidge, darting between the Galra soldiers and downing them before most even realize they’re there. They’re always exhausted after battle, usually the only one that manages to traverse the entire field, never staying in one place for more than a moment.

Shiro is three, cutting down the enemy with both his sword and his Galra-magic infused prosthetic. The Galra tend to shy away from him, making them an easier target.

Keith is four, always the easiest to find in battle. He’s usually at Lance’s back, and Lance doesn’t have to see him to know he’s there.

And Lance, of course, is five.

“Lance!” Keith shouts, and Lance is already turning. He stands on his toes and is aiming before he even knows what he’s supposed to be shooting at. His eyes lock onto a Galra in the rafters in milliseconds, her blaster glowing with the charge she’s about to shoot. Not a moment later, her body falls to the ground.

At the same time, Keith ducks under his arm, stabbing someone approaching from behind Lance, before straightening back up. They’re both panting, and Keith’s not wearing his visor. He never is, during battle. Complains that it fogs up. That it gets so hot he can’t concentrate.

His hair is plastered to his face and he’s sweaty and gross, and by all means, Lance shouldn’t find him attractive, but he does. His mind doesn’t tell him to dissolve his visor, but he does. Not a single thought tells him to grab Keith by the neck and reel him in. But he does.

It’s the strangest kiss he’s ever had. Neither of them have much breath to spare, and the battle’s raging all around them, but Keith is soft and pliant against his body. He has one hand on Lance’s waist, and Lance can feel his sword pressing against the back of his calf, but only absently. The majority of his attention is focused on Keith’s mouth. On his lips. On the way he tastes on Lance’s tongue, like blood and sweat and something sweeter underneath.

“ _Guys_!” someone shouts, and Lance peels his eyes open with the force of an iron will. He pulls away from Keith by maybe a millimeter, raising his gun to shoot one, two, three enemies sprinting at them. And then he kisses Keith again, much briefer this time.

“Later,” he pants, and Keith nods viciously.

“Told you,” he says, and they’ve switched sides now. Lance is shooting at the guys on the other side of the room, and Keith is fighting the enemies that used to be in front of Lance. They’re back-to-back again.

“What?” Lance manages, his brain slowly catching up. Looks like the thing does work. But at the moment, he regrets nothing.

“I got that kiss,” Keith says, and Lance barks out a laugh, shooting two Galra in succession before reaching for Keith’s hand. They’ve finally managed to clear an opening in the crowd, and Lance races through it before it closes back up around their friends. In moments, they’re sprinting down a passageway toward the engine room, and now the battle isn’t all around him, but merely in his ears. Good. Everyone has their comms on. They’ll need to get out when he and Keith set the bomb.

“Keith and I are en route,” Lance tells them, and Shiro grunts back an affirmative.

The hallways are familiar. Lance could probably count the amount of battle cruisers he’s navigated, engine rooms he’s destroyed, but it would take a while. Funnily enough, he thinks it’s usually Keith who’s been at his side. All this time, all their years in space, he thinks they’ve been drifting toward each other.

It’s so strange, thinking about it. 18-year-old Lance would never believe it. _That_ Lance would probably scoff at him. _You’re fraternizing with the enemy,_ he’d probably say, badly concealing the fact that he was ecstatic.

Back at the Garrison, Lance had wanted nothing more than for Keith to notice him. And then, once they were in space, he’d decided he didn’t care whether Keith noticed him or not. Had pretended he wasn’t looking over his shoulder, seeing if Keith had noticed, whenever he pulled off a particularly cool move in battle. Pretended he hadn’t recognized the fluttery feeling in his stomach whenever Keith had, whenever he’d grinned across the battlefield or on rarer occasions, shouted, “Good one, Lance!”

Step by step, day by day, the universe had been nudging them closer together. Making them an arm and leg of Voltron. Turning Keith from his rival to his teammate to his friend.

And all it took for Lance to take that final step was having his life put on the line. For his days to become numbered.

“Shit!” Keith hisses, and his fingers curl around Lance’s arm, right above his elbow, before he’s yanked into a maintenance closet. It’s a small room, and the two of them are pressed close together. Lance’s hands automatically settle on Keith’s waist, as if he needs to steady him.

“Droids,” Keith murmurs. Lance nods, saying nothing. They’re both listening.

The droids aren’t exactly sentient. They fight like they are, but they have no mind of their own. They won’t engage in a fight unless instructed to, which is why they’re still patrolling the ship even when there’s a battle going on in the main deck.

Their footsteps clunk past the maintenance closet, and he and Keith stay there until they recede completely.

“Go time?” Lance says, once they can no longer hear them.

“In a sec,” Keith says, and then he’s kissing Lance. Lance grips him a little harder, pulls him in a little closer.

He’s an idiot, he realizes then. To have denied himself this for as long as he did. It was only a few days, but still. That’s a few days more that he could’ve spent kissing Keith.

“Okay,” Keith says, catching his breath after he pulls away. “I’m ready.”

“I’m in love with you,” Lance says, his voice raspy. He clears his throat. “Let’s blow up a ship.”

Keith opens the door, and Lance’s hand stays on the small of his back for as long as it can. Then they’re sneaking through the ship again, clearing side-halls and ducking sentries.

They get to the engine room without incident. It’s as vast and intimidating as ever, with the railing-less pathway to the center of the room, the engine itself surrounding them on all sides.

“I’ll keep watch,” Keith says, and he stays facing the door as Lance hurries down the pathway. There’s a control board at the end of it, which is his target. After destroying battle cruisers became commonplace, Pidge and Hunk taught all of them how to rewire the control board and turn it into a bomb. It’s handy, and the knowledge is applicable elsewhere, meaning they don’t have to carry explosives with them as long as they can find a similar piece of Galra tech. It’s not that strong of an explosion, but seeing as it’s centered in the engine room, it more than does the job.

Lance pries open the board and gets to work immediately. It only takes a couple minutes, but even that can be too long when you’re in the middle of infiltrating an enemy ship. At any moment, the Galra can notice the fact that they’re fighting only three paladins in the main deck, so time is of the essence.

Wires get crossed and rerouted. Others torn out. Lance checks his work, then checks it again, then hacks into the board’s settings, putting the engines on full power. As long as no one else tampers with it, they have approximately two minutes to get off the ship.

“Bomb’s set,” Lance says into the comms. “Evacuation starts now.”

“Got it,” Pidge says, and Hunk and Shiro echo the sentiment. Soon after, the sounds of battle in Lance’s ear cease.

“Let’s go,” Lance says, catching back up with Keith, and they clear the hallway before setting off toward their lions. They’ll have to split up eventually, but all in all, it’s looking like another successful mission for Voltron.

That is, until they run into the Commander himself.

He stands there with four soldiers backing him, all of them with their weapons raised and glowing, ready to shoot at a moment’s notice. Neither he nor Keith have the chance to raise their weapons.

“Well, well, well,” the Commander says. Cliché. He should really invest in finding a better opening line. “Looks like I’ve got you right where I want you.” Ouch, double cliché! There’s no coming back from that.

“Surrender now and we won’t kill you,” Keith says. The Commander laughs.

“You’re the ones at gun-point,” he says, all too pleased with himself.

“Sixty seconds!” Pidge says over the comms. Lance winces minutely.

“Listen,” Lance says. “This ship’s about to blow. If you don’t let us go now, none of us are getting out of here alive.”

The Commander’s gleeful expression twitches. Doubtful. “You’re lying,” he says.

“He’s not,” says Keith. “Go to your escape pods. We won’t stop you.”

The Commander continues to stare at them. A moment passes.

“Grab them,” he says. Lance reaches for his weapon, but a blast to his chest stops him. His armor prevents the worst of it, but at such close range, it still has him doubling over in pain.

“Lance!” Keith shouts.

“‘M fine,” Lance grunts.

“30 seconds,” Pidge says. “Keith, Lance, where are you?”

“Preoccupied,” Lance mutters. A rough grip latches around his arm and starts yanking him down the hall. Lance stumbles after them blindly, dizzy with pain.

“In, get in!” someone shouts, and Lance is shoved to the floor of an unfamiliar pod. Oh, God. This can’t be good.

Keith grunts as he crashes to the ground beside him, and their hands find each other as the pod shoots out of the bay, piloted by the Commander.

“Fucking shit,” Lance curses. Through the windows, he can see his friends in their lions, frantically circling the cruiser.

“Where are you?!” Hunk demands.

“Might be a while,” Lance whispers. The Commander and his grunts aren’t paying attention to them. Looks like they were kidnapped on a whim. “Blue and Red are gonna need some patch ups. And track that pod that’s escaping, will you? ‘Cause we’re on it.”

“ _What_?” Shiro says, just before the battle cruiser explodes, silent in the vacuum of space.

“Yeah,” Lance mutters. “Just—”

“Hey, who’s he talking to?!” the Commander shouts. The soldiers look at him fearfully, and Lance quickly closes his mouth. “Silence him!”

Lance only has time to think, _I hope that thing’s set to stun,_ before the gun in front of his face goes off.

Keith’s breath catches in his throat, but only for a moment. Fear explodes through him and he screams. A soldier kicks him.

“Shut up!” he shouts.

There’s no time to check on Lance, to see whether he’s still alive and breathing, but he still has time left. His wrist _says so_. At least ten days, if Keith’s number is to be trusted. It must’ve hit midnight sometime on the cruiser.

“I’ll kill you!” Keith growls. His bayard materializes in his hand and he whips around, slicing through the solider nearest to him. He crumples to the floor without a sound, and then there’s shouting.

It all gets lost in Keith’s head. Anger and fear fuel him. He stands in front of Lance, protecting him from the blasts. He cuts one of the soldier’s hands clean off, when he points his blaster in Lance’s vicinity.

The battle’s as short as it is bloody. The area’s small, which is better for close combat than long range fighting. The Commander’s the last one to put up a fight, and put up a fight he does. He throws the pod into light speed, and Keith slams against the wall as it jolts forward. The Castle disappears, and Keith hopes they managed to get a read on the pod before the jump.

He claws his way forward, and the Commander jumps out of his seat, sword raised. He must be used to having his grunts do his fighting for him, though, because Keith disarms him just as easily as the rest. His sword slices through the man and further still, getting buried in the control board of the pod.

The Commander laughs with his dying breath.

Immediately, the alarms start to sound. They exit light speed much more abruptly than they entered it, and much too close to a planet. Lights are flashing, and they’re close enough to the planet that the gravity is pulling them in. The controls are shot, there’s no stopping it. A crash-landing is imminent.

Keith rips his sword out of the control board vehemently, ignoring the sparks that spray from it, and kicks the Commander out of the way before crossing back toward Lance and sinking down beside him.

He’s limp against the floor, looking peaceful. But he’s breathing, thank God.

Keith activates Lance’s visor, and then he pulls him into the copilot’s seat, strapping the buckle over Lance first and himself second. He can see the planet growing larger through the windshield. Lance can’t do anything to comfort him, but he reaches for his hand anyway.

They still have ten days. They have to, even if it doesn’t feel like it. Even if it seems like they’re about to crash into a planet and explode into a million pieces.

Keith starts messing the with controls. Almost none of them respond, and the pod only lurches threateningly when he pulls the lever.

They’re definitely in the atmosphere by now, the pod speeding up even more. Probably falling to the earth in a blaze of fire.

Keith looks at Lance. He can easily imagine him grinning. Rubbing his thumb over Keith’s hand. Saying, as if it doesn’t cost him a thing, “You know I’m in love with you, right?”

Keith manages a smile. Squeezes Lance’s hand a little harder. “I love you, too,” he mutters, and braces for impact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> legally you can't be mad at me because i made them kiss, i don't make the rules
> 
> (also, surprise keith pov?!?! wha what!!!)


	23. wrath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm in a RUSH because i'm going to a party so i hope there aren't any errors i edited this Quickly
> 
> ***ALSO*** 
> 
> read the end notes for chapter spoilers. what happens in this chapter isn't gruesome or triggering or anything but if you know there are Certain Things in fics that you don't like to read and you suspect that whatever i'm warning you about might be one of those Things, go ahead and read the end notes to see what that is
> 
> everyone else, enjoy!!

Nine days left. Nine days, and they’re wasting it on this stupid planet, far from their friends and so far, without any discernable help.

Keith’s still just amazed they’re alive.

The force of the impact knocked him out, though only for a few minutes. He jerked back awake once the water was to his waist, freezing cold and already turning his body numb. They’d missed land and hit water by mere meters, but Keith isn’t sure that’s as lucky as it seems. This planet is a frozen one, the water even colder than the snow.

Even still, Lance hadn’t woken up. Galra blasters must have a much stronger ‘stun’ setting than their own. Either that, or they’ve just never lingered long enough to see the effects of Voltron’s blasters wear off before.

Shaking with the cold, Keith had plunged his hands into the icy water, undoing his seat belt before having to repeat the process with Lance. The Galra’s bodies had been floating in the water around them, somehow more gruesome like than they’d been on the floor, surrounded by their own blood.

The water had been good for transporting Lance, if nothing else. It’d made him lighter, and Keith was thankful for that, given the bruised and battered state of his body. They really were lucky to have survived that crash.

Opening the pod’s door had been a trial in and of itself. The water pressure on the other side had been insurmountable, and Keith had ended up stealing Lance’s blaster and shooting a hole in the window in order for them to escape, coughing and spluttering as the water had started to pour in faster through the opening.

He’d managed to get Lance on land, though his body nearly went into shock, swimming through the icy waters to get there. He’d wanted nothing more than to lay down the second he’d gotten there, but that wasn’t an option. The planet was frozen, their one chance at sending out a distress signal was underwater, and if he stopped now, both he and Lance would freeze to death within hours.

So he’d gotten to work. Mere feet from the water, he’d started digging. Shelling out a hole in the snow, digging out a shelter. If it weren’t for their suits being waterproof, they wouldn’t have stood a chance. Seeing as they were, Lance’s lips were merely blue, not purple, by the time he managed to dig the hole, drag Lance inside of it, and build walls and a roof around him. It was shoddy work. Definitely not tall enough to stand in, and barely wide enough to fit them both, but Keith wasn’t aiming for anything other than survival, here.

And so far, it’s worked. They’ve survived. Sure, Lance isn’t awake yet, but he isn’t dead, either. Keith’s made sure of that, oh, every thirty minutes or so.

 _You’re such a worry wart,_ he can hear Lance telling him. Scoffing and trying to push him away with his foot. That’s probably what he would say, if he were awake right now, seeing Keith check on him for what feels like the hundredth time.

He really hopes their friends managed to track them, but it doesn’t seem too likely. They only warned them of their presence in the pod moments before the Galran Commander jumped to lightspeed. Pidge can probably figure out some way to track them eventually, but it’ll take a while. And on a freezing planet without any food, they don’t exactly _have_ a while.

“Are you ever going to wake up?” Keith mutters, crouching by Lance’s side again. He’s wearing two pairs of gloves, both his own and Keith’s. He thinks Lance is in greater danger than him, not being able to get up and move around to retain body heat. He doesn’t want Lance to lose his fingers on his watch.

Lance doesn’t respond, obviously, and Keith sighs, staring at his face. The visor’s down, also to conserve body heat, but he wishes it weren’t. He wants to see his face unobstructed.

It doesn’t seem real, that they actually kissed. And in the heat of battle, too. Thinking about it, Keith almost smiles. It’s absolutely ridiculous, to disregard the dangers of battle like that, but it’s also absolutely _them_. It’s all too fitting, that their first kiss wouldn’t be because of Lance’s flirting, or Keith’s persistence, but because of sheer adrenaline and exhilaration.

The first thing Keith’s going to do when Lance wakes up is kiss him. And then he’s going to ask if he’s okay.

He sighs, crawling back out of the makeshift igloo and observing their surroundings again. He’s hoping beyond hope that some sort of vulnerable creature’s going to come wandering along. They need something to eat, but there’s nothing but snow for what seems like miles around them. This is truly a desolate planet.

They’re not going to die here. Keith’s sure of it. The numbers on their wrists seem like a promise, now, instead of a threat. Lance has nine more days, and that’s a fact. What’ll happen afterward is a mess of terror and obscurity that Keith never dares to scrutinize too closely, but for now, for little more than a week, Lance will be okay.

He has to be.

It’s funny. Keith had never thought Lance might be interested in him. It seemed like a foolish hope, one befitting of the boy in foster homes, the boy who’d been hopeful and disappointed in equal measure with every foster family.

After getting his prophecy, it’d felt a little less equal. More disappointment than hope.

And then Lance had sat down next to a river. His voice softer than the babbling brook, his eyes brighter than the light that reflected off it. Keith could hardly believe his ears, when Lance told him he loved him. He was sure that Lance would be able to hear his heart, thundering away in his chest.

The hope had rushed back in, but he’d pushed it back. He was wary of his prophecy, and thought Lance had the same one as well. Best to wait. Best to be sure.

And then Lance had dropped that bomb. Had informed them that while Keith had gleefully been counting down the days on his wrist, he’d been dreading them, because he might not be here at the end of all this.

Immediately, Keith had fought against the idea. They’re Voltron. They’re a _team_. The thought of one of them dying is preposterous, even if it’s not completely unlikely. But if one of them had to die, Keith had always imagined that it would be him. The rash one. The impulsive one.

Not Lance, the sweet, generous, selfless one. The funny, magnetic, perfect one.

Just… not _Lance_.

And suddenly waiting had felt so stupid. Lance was there, and in love with him, and Keith had already wasted so much time. Not just the time that’s been numbered, the days marked on his wrist, but the weeks, months, _years_ before that. All that time, he could’ve been with Lance. And now, he might not have any time left at all.

That is, if Lance really dies. Which he won’t. Keith assures himself of this constantly, because the alternative is too gruesome.

But out here, the alternative is extremely persistent. As the hours spent here grow, so does the desperation. The fear. Keith’s stuck in his own head with no outlet. He’s hungry and cold and Lance is dead to the world, probably even colder than him. Keith’s scared and _angry_ and he’s sick of this stupid ice planet, sick of Lance being unresponsive, sick of all the Galra in the universe and the fact that they’d even dare to point a machine of death at someone so full of life.

“God _dammit_!” Keith shouts, the anger bubbling to the surface. He kicks a mound of snow, then another. He takes Lance’s blaster, which he’s been holding onto since escaping the pod, and starts shooting. Snow sizzles around him, and water sprays from the ocean. It seems like everything gets shot. Everything except from his pathetic little igloo, harboring the man he loves.

Tears freeze the second they hit Keith’s cheeks, and he’s cursing and shouting and kicking and shooting and—

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you have anger issues.”

“ _Lance_ ,” Keith breathes.

The ground is freezing under Lance. In fact, his entire body feels like an ice cube. But somehow, looking at Keith kicking snow and shooting Lance’s blaster fills him with a modicum of warmth.

Maybe he should get that checked out.

Keith rushes over, his expression having morphed from one of wrath to one of elation within a moment, and he collapses onto the ground right in front of Lance to kiss him. His lips are warm, and Lance hums into the kiss, the aches in his body slowly lessening at Keith’s touch.

And then Keith pulls away. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“I’m cold and sore,” Lance says bluntly. “But you look adorable, so yeah. I’d say I’m okay.”

Keith somehow manages to look both exasperated and fond at the same time. “Get back inside,” he says. “We’ve gotta warm you up.”

Lance shuffles back into the little snow hut, wondering for the first time why they’re there. Did Keith manage to take over the pod after Lance was stunned? Why did he choose this planet? Why an igloo instead of the insulated pod?

Either Lance accidentally says this all out loud, or Keith’s just been dying to talk to him, ‘cause he starts explaining immediately.

“We crashed here,” he says. “Survived by some miracle. The pod’s underwater, now, and I’m not sure whether our friends will be able to track it.”

“Gimme some time to warm up and we can start exploring,” Lance promises. “We can try to find civilization and contact them first.”

“I’m not sure if that’s the best idea,” Keith says. “I don’t know if there’s anything alive around here. I haven’t even seen any animals, and we’ll run out of energy quickly without food. And if it snows more and our friends find the pod, they won’t be able to track us.”

“First of all, we have food,” Lance says, summoning his med pack. He places it on the ground in front of them and unzips it, an ungodly amount of protein bars spilling out immediately.

“You’re insane,” Keith says without missing a beat.

“I fucking hate these bars,” Lance says, and then grabs one. “I never eat them. Cheers.”

He and Keith unwrap their bars simultaneously, and then Lance pulls out the shock blanket. It folds up into a tiny square, but it’s big enough to cover a body.

“I’m an idiot,” Keith says around a mouthful of bar, staring at the blanket. “Forgot we had those,” he elaborates.

“You’re a genius,” Lance corrects him. “No one’s ever built me an igloo before.”

Keith rolls his eyes, but he takes out his own med pack and retrieves his blanket as well. Soon, they have one underneath them and one on top. They huddle together, sharing body warmth as they devour their food.

“Let’s wait here a while longer, just in case they come,” Lance says. “After that, we can try to contact them ourselves. Plus, I might kill myself if I have to eat many more of these,” Lance says, throwing his wrapper across the igloo vindictively.

“Sounds good to me,” Keith says, slumping against his side immediately. He must be exhausted. Lance can’t imagine he slept since they crashed here, what with the igloo-building and likely panicking over the fact that Lance was still out cold. A few of them have been stunned before, but they’re usually shoved into a pod quickly enough that they wake up after only an hour or so.

The food helps their growling stomachs and combats some of the cold, but this planet is still a freezing snowball, and the blankets only do so much. Lance clears his throat.

“At the risk of sounding like a pervert—”

“Great way to start a sentence,” Keith says sarcastically.

Lance boldly continues. “Maybe we should do a better job of conserving body heat.”

Keith looks at him, an eyebrow raised. “You want to cuddle?” he guesses.

“Well, yeah,” Lance says. “But, um. I mean, haven’t you ever heard…?”

“You’re gonna have to enlighten me here, Lance.”

Blushing now, Lance looks away from Keith, shrugging uncomfortably. “It’s just — you’re supposed to cuddle when you’re trying to conserve body heat. You know. Without barriers.”

Keith’s silent for a moment.

“You’re pulling my leg,” he decides.

“I absolutely am not,” Lance says, staring at the opposite side of the igloo harder. He can feel Keith’s gaze burning into him. “I guess you wouldn’t know that though, would you, desert boy?”

Keith huffs. “If it’s gonna stop you from freezing to death, then of course I’ll do it,” he says.

“Betchya you’d do it even if I weren’t freezing to death,” Lance mutters, but Keith declines to respond, his cheeks a pretty pink.

Without talking, they both start delayering. First goes the armor, piled carefully together in the corner. Then goes their suits (including Lance’s two layers of gloves?) tossed carelessly overtop.

“Um,” Keith says, standing on the blanket and visibly shivering. His fingers hover over the edge of his boxers.

“Let’s keep ‘em for now,” Lance suggests, and Keith nods gratefully. They return to the shock blanket, and Lance pulls Keith into his arms. The air is frigid, but Keith is warm against him, his back pressed to Lance’s stomach. Lance hooks his chin over his shoulder, burying his nose into the warmth of Keith’s neck.

“Your nose is cold,” he whispers.

“So are my hands,” Lance whispers back, splaying them over Keith’s stomach. Keith stiffens slightly against him, and then his hands cover Lance’s, as if to warm them up.

Lance presses his lips to Keith’s neck, and Keith shivers against him.

“That feels good,” he murmurs.

“Yeah?” Lance says. He kisses his neck again, sucking the skin into his mouth for a moment. Keith sighs. “Has anyone ever kissed your neck before?”

“No,” Keith breathes. He tilts his head, giving Lance more room, and Lance noses up the column of his throat, kissing the corner of his jaw.

“No?” he says incredulously. “They were missing out.”

“Lance,” Keith says, and it’s half a scoff, half a laugh. “No one’s ever done… any of this, to me before.”

Lance pauses. “You’re serious?” he says.

Keith shrugs, the movement jostling Lance’s body. “I never really had the chance to date anyone.”

“I never would’ve guessed you were unexperienced,” Lance says. Keith stiffens, probably embarrassed, and Lance starts kissing him again, persuading him to relax. Keith keeps making these sighing sounds, angling his head back to give Lance more room and arching against his body whenever Lance does something particularly good with his mouth.

It’s not until Keith gasps, his hand clenching around Lance’s, that Lance realizes this is really _doing it_ for him. Lance pauses for a second.

Keith, breathless, asks, “Why’d you stop?”

So Lance gets back to work, decorating Keith’s neck in dark, purple hickeys. If he could see them, he’d probably be pissed. But Lance gets the feeling that he doesn’t even realize that that’s what Lance is doing to him.

The next time Keith shudders out a breath, Lance inches his hand lower. Slowly, and carefully. He eases Keith into it, so minute in his ministrations that Keith doesn’t even realize Lance is inching his fingers under his waistband until Lance brings it up.

“Is this okay?” he asks, fluttering his fingers so Keith knows exactly what he’s talking about.

“Um,” Keith says.

“I’ll stop,” Lance offers. “Our first time doesn’t have to be like this. Huddled under blankets and hiding from the cold on an ice planet.”

“Um,” Keith repeats. “I mean, I don’t—” he clears his throat. “I don’t mind,” he whispers, and Lance tugs him more securely against his body, pressing Keith to his chest as he slips his hand into his underwear.

He’s already hard, and he’s incredibly warm, between his legs. Lance hopes his hands aren’t cold anymore.

If he had to guess, though, he would say that they aren’t. If Keith’s reactions are any indication, that is.

Keith is rigid against him, breathing shallowly as Lance strokes him. Lance sits up a little bit and finds him with his eyes closed and his knuckles shoved into his mouth. Lance stops immediately, concerned.

“Hey,” he says. “Are you not enjoying this? We can stop.”

Keith’s eyes flutter open, and when they find Lance hovering over him, he flushes the reddest Lance has ever seen him.

“I’m just being quiet,” he whispers.

“Dude, there’s no one around here. You don’t have to be quiet.”

“You’re here,” Keith says stubbornly, and Lance laughs, low and in Keith’s ear.

“Yeah, and I _want_ to hear you. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought about this?”

“Jerking me off on an ice planet?” Keith jokes, but he’s still blushing.

“Yes, this exact scenario is what I imagined,” Lance says snarkily.

“I’m just used to being quiet,” Keith finally admits. “You know. Foster homes and the Garrison and — I don’t know. This is embarrassing. Why are we talking about this.”

“Keith, if I live past these next nine days, we’re gonna talk about everything,” Lance says. “And you’re gonna learn that sometimes I just can’t shut up during sex. And that hearing you moan is only going to turn me on even more.”

“Okay, whatever, just—”

Lance cuts him off, rubbing his thumb over the head of Keith’s cock, and Keith gasps, the sound high-pitched and broken off. “Fuck,” he says, and Lance kisses him chastely on the back of his neck.

“I love you,” Lance tells Keith seriously, stroking him slowly now. “And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t done this before while thinking about you.”

Keith moans, and Lance grins, speeding up his hand rewardingly. Keith goes soft and pliant against him, and his hand comes up to grip Lance’s free hand, the one that’s snaked under Keith’s side and holding him against his own body.

“Lance,” Keith gasps, jerking into his fist, and Lance hums, grinding up against him.

“You sound so pretty, Kogane,” Lance teases. “Just you wait ‘til we’re back on the Castle. I’ve got more than just a data pad in my bedside drawer.”

Keith laughs, and then groans, his fingers slotting between Lance’s and squeezing his hand. “How does this feel so much better when you do it?” he gasps, twisting his head to make eye contact with Lance. Oh, this is definitely progress. Keith’s cheeks are flushed, his lips bitten red, and his pupils are dilated, flicking between Lance’s eyes wildly.

“Are you saying I masturbate a lot?” Lance jokes. “Because I do it a _regular amount_.”

Keith huffs, and Lance can feel him trembling against him. He turns around suddenly, burying his face against Lance’s chest, and his fingers start scrabbling against Lance’s boxers.

“You too,” he says, moments before plunging his hand into Lance’s underwear.

Keith’s right, it does feel better when someone else does it, and it’s been a good, long while since anyone else has done it for Lance.

His next breath comes out shaky, and Keith pulls away a bit, looking at Lance. “Woah,” he says.

“What?”

“I never thought I’d see you like — _ah_ , l-like this.”

“Did you imagine me like this?” Lance says, grinning, and Keith just closes his eyes.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, but his mouth falls open after that, his eyes adorably scrunched, and holy shit. Lance is going to see this man come. Scratch that — he’s going to _make_ this man come.

He lets go of Keith for a second, ignoring his whine of complaint, and grabs his leg just under his knee, yanking it over his own hip. They’re lined up, arousals poking into each other’s stomachs, and Lance wraps his hand around them both, stroking the both of them faster than before.

Keith cries out, louder than before, and he wraps his arm around Lance’s back, hugging him as close as possible as he pants into Lance’s chest, warm breaths spilling over his skin. He’s thrusting into Lance’s hand, against his stomach, and Lance can feel the tension in his body from the way its pressed to his own.

“Wanna see your face, babe,” Lance whispers. “Wanna watch.”

Keith moans, and it seems like it takes a lot of self-control from him to peel himself away from Lance, and even then, only slightly. He peers up at Lance, his eyes bleary with arousal and his lower lip trembling. Just that sight has Lance closer than ever, but it’s seeing Keith come that does him in.

Keith’s eyes slam shut, and though his mouth stays open, it’s like he reverts to the version of him that’s learned to be quiet. He’s completely silent, but the pleasure is written all over his body, from the hitch in his breath to the flush rising up his chest to the way his nails dig into Lance’s back as he shakes and trembles against him.

Lance groans, pulling him back against his body as he curls around him, following him right over the edge. Slowly, Keith stops twitching and thrusting against him, and Lance stops stroking their spent arousals, instead wrapping his arm around Keith’s back, rubbing up and down.

“Holy shit,” Keith murmurs against him. Lance can feel his lips move when he talks.

“Yeah?” he says, ducking his head to press a kiss against Keith’s forehead.

“Yeah,” is all Keith says, and he burrows into Lance a little further. Holds onto him a little tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beginning notes people looking for end notes spoilers: there's smut in this chapter
> 
> sorry i can't say that any more elegantly i'm in a RUSH
> 
> OH and if it wasn't obvious the 'wrath' was keith being pissed about lance's possible fate and shooting everything ok bye for real


	24. sticks and stones may break your bones

Needless to say, they accidentally fell asleep.

It’s probably a good thing — Keith definitely needed to rest, but it came as a bit of a surprise when Lance woke up with a naked Keith in his arms, abruptly reminded of what they’d done the day before. He’d kissed Keith awake, and then kissed his blushing cheeks, and then doled out a protein bar for each of them.

With their friends still not having found them, they decided to try to find some sort of civilization. Worst case scenario, they’ll build another igloo and hunker down for the next night, but Lance is hoping they find something somewhere along the coast of this icy ocean.

“Maybe there are people on this planet, but they’re just not _here_ ,” Keith says, sullenly dragging his sword along the ground beside him. He transformed his bayard a while back, thinking a particularly large pile of snow might be an animal of some sort, but once they got closer, it was still just a pile of snow. He hasn’t had the heart to transform it back yet. “I mean, if aliens landed in Antarctica, they might think our planet was abandoned too.”

“That’s a depressing idea,” Lance sighs. They’ve been walking for hours, and still nothing much has changed. Lance thought they would’ve at least seen an animal by now.

He’s not in a good mood, and for more than just because they’re not really getting anywhere. While part of him feels ecstatic about everything that’s happened between him and Keith, a much bigger part of him is convinced it was a mistake. He just can’t see how all of this isn’t going to end in regret for Keith in eight days’ time.

As a result, Lance hasn’t been very talkative. Situations like this always seem to pass faster with conversation, but Lance just hasn’t been up to it. Keith, on the other hand, has tried and failed to start several conversations, none of which Lance has entertained for long.

He feels bad about it, but he can’t help it. He’s in a sour mood and it’s times like these when he just needs some alone-time to cool off, not that that’s an option here. He and Keith can’t split up for obvious reasons, and they really can’t afford to take a break. Not if they want to get back to the Castle anytime soon.

Keith notices his bad mood, though. It’s impossible to spend years with any group of people without them picking up on your tells.

For example, when Hunk is upset, he gets short and snappy. He starts saying things with an unusual amount of sarcasm, which is pretty much _any_ amount of sarcasm, coming from Hunk.

Pidge gets all superior. They’ll start using words and technical language that they know no one else will understand, just to spread their bad mood.

Shiro becomes stricter, more demanding, and Allura is typically in the same boat, though much haughtier about it. Lance can’t say that he’s even seen Coran in a bad mood, but if he had to guess, he’d say that Coran usually distances himself whenever he is in one. He doesn’t seem the type that’d like to inflict his mood on others.

Lance, normally a chatterbox, turns silent. And Keith, normally a relatively quiet presence, will speak up more, though most of his comments will be barbed and scathing.

“What’s wrong?” Keith finally says, once he’s had enough of Lance’s uncooperativeness, and Lance huffs.

“I’m a ticking time bomb, Keith,” he says. “You’re wasting your time with me and I don’t know why.”

“What are you saying?”

“You know what I’m saying,” Lance says lowly. “I’m probably going to die in eight days. And I — I _stole_ from you. The first person to tell you they love you. Your first kiss. Your first, um. Whatever.”

“Smooth,” Keith says sarcastically. “And for the record, you weren’t my first kiss. I kissed a boy in the locker room in middle school. I never talked to him again after that, but still.”

Already, that sounds cute, and Lance wants to know more. He wants to know everything about Keith. He wants to hear all the stories he has to tell and he wants to go and experience so much more with him and that’s the _problem_. He can’t, and he knows he can’t, and Keith’s just in denial and it’s only going to end up hurting him more.

“I’m practically already _dead_ , Keith,” Lance snaps.

And Keith snaps back. “You’re not!” he shouts. “You only think you are because you’ve given up!”

“If I’d given up, I wouldn’t _be_ here right now, trying to find a way off this stupid planet! I’d just let it kill me!”

“You’re the only one who genuinely thinks you’re going to die,” Keith snarls. “And _that’s_ why you’ve given up.”

“I’m the only one that’s _sensible_ ,” Lance yells, stepping closer to him. He’s breathing heavily, and his skin feels itchy and hot with anger. “You and everyone else — you’re oblivious! You’re in denial, and you’re just going to be hurt by it in the end! You need to accept it!”

“You need to step worrying about how we’re going to be effected by it and start worrying about how you’re going to fight back,” Keith says.

“There is no fighting back! It’s a prophecy, it’s the future! You guys should just start looking for a new Paladin already!”

Keith shoves him. Just — plants a hand on Lance’s chest and pushes him backward.

“Oh, that’s how it’s going to be?” Lance says snidely.

“Yeah,” Keith says.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

Keith’s holding his sword still, his knuckles surely white beneath his gloves with how hard he’s holding the handle.

“Gonna get it over with and stab me, then?” Lance taunts.

Keith lets out a wordless shout, throwing his sword to the side before charging Lance, who ducks the first blow and tries to sweep Keith’s feet out from under him. But Keith sees it coming and jumps over his leg, and he grabs Lance’s arm and twists it painfully behind his back, so Lance yanks him to the ground.

It feels like old times, just brawling with Keith and getting his frustrations out. Keith’s on top of him, but Lance rolls them over, and then Keith bucks his hips and Lance flips over him. Keith throws a punch and Lance throws another, both of them shouting and growling and saying nothing of substance. Lance’s lip is bleeding and Keith’s cheek is turning purple, and it only ends when Keith’s straddling Lance, both of Lance’s hands pinned in the snow above his head.

“Punch me,” Lance spits. But Keith doesn’t. He just slumps against him, and then their helmets are touching, and then Keith is sliding the rest of the way down, so that he’s lying on top of Lance entirely.

Lance sighs, and his arm ends up behind Keith’s back, holding him close.

“ _Lance_ ,” Keith says, and his voice sounds thick, on the edge of breaking. “I don’t want you to die,” he whispers, and Lance hugs him even tighter.

“I know,” he says, and Keith shakes against him, his sobs silent. “I know.”

“Promise you’ll try,” he says.

“Of course I will,” Lance says. “I haven’t given up.”

“I’m not going to regret this, you know,” Keith whispers. “No matter what.”

“Okay.”

“I’m serious,” Keith says.

“Okay. I love you.”

“I’m sorry for punching you.”

“Me too,” Lance says. And then, “That was a really good flip, by the way.”

Keith pushes himself up to his elbows. “It was sloppy,” he says. “But it was really hard to get out of your guard. You’ve improved a lot.”

“Thanks,” Lance says, and then he presses the same button on both of their helmets and pushes himself up to kiss Keith. “Let’s keep walking,” he says. He grabs Keith’s sword, holding it out to him, and Keith takes it, looking abashed.

There’s a straight line in the snow from where Keith had been dragging his sword, and it ends in this giant area of disturbed snow where they brawled.

“That felt kind of good,” Lance admits. “We should spar more often.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you!” Keith says. And then he reaches out and links their hands, and they continue on their way.


	25. poison

Lance sits up, sure he’s heard something, and he blinks blearily at the snow surrounding them. They ended up caving and making another igloo late last night, their legs aching from walking.

But he definitely hears something. Muffled thuds in the snow.

He gets up without disturbing Keith and ducks through the opening of their igloo, peering out at their surroundings. And there, being dragged through the snow by a series of animals, is a sled with an alien on it.

“Hey!” Lance shouts, waving his arms over his head. “Hey! Over here! Help!”

The alien looks his way, and she pulls on the reins, redirecting the animals. They’re not quite like mush dogs — they have too many legs, for one thing, and the shape of their bodies is all wrong — but they listen to her the same. Her sled comes right toward Lance, and with careful handling, the animals stop just as she’s in front of him.

“Who’re you?” she spits.

“I’m Lance, I’m the Blue Paladin from Voltron. Keith and I crash landed here — can you take us to the nearest civilization?”

“Prove it,” she says.

“Prove it?” Lance says slowly. “What?”

“I don’t see no lions,” she says, splaying her hands wide, gesturing to all the lion-less space around them. “I thought Voltron had _lions_.”

“Right, but we crashed here in an escape pod.”

“Mmm,” she says. “So you’s was that thing that fell from the sky.”

“You guys saw a spaceship fall from the sky and didn’t investigate?” Keith says, appearing from the entrance of the igloo, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

The woman shrugs. “We figured the cold’a kill you first. You landed in the water, sprayed chunks of ice all the way into town. One of ‘em hit my neighbor Max’el,” she snarls. And then she looks thoughtful. “Always hated Max’el,” she muses. “He deserved it. You know what, I’ll take you to someone who can help.”

Lance and Keith exchange surprised looks, but they’re not ones to look a gift horse in the mouth, so they climb aboard the sled.

“Names Ryetha,” she says, holding out a hand, which both of them shake. “Town’s about an hour inland. You never woulda found anything, walking along the coast.”

Keith gives Lance a significant look, mouthing _told you_. Lance sticks out his tongue and gives him the finger.

“We really appreciate it,” Lance tells Ryetha as she mushes the Not Dogs. “Is there a king you can take us to, or…?”

Ryetha barks out a laugh, bending over the front of the sled as she clutches her stomach. By the time she stands back up, tears are frozen on her face, and she’s still hiccupping with leftover laughter.

“King?” she tithers. “ _King?_ No, sorry, you’re about two thousand years too late to meet a king,” she says, still giggling.

Lance purses his lips. Weirdly, most of the planets they visit have kings. He’s never questioned it before.

“We have a president, but he’s a treacherous, good-for-nothing _snake_. Nah, you wouldn’t want nothin’ to do with him. He’d sooner keep you here and demand a ransom than send you back on your way.”

“Right,” Keith says slowly. “So… who _are_ you taking us to?”

Ryetha sighs. “My neighbor, Max’el.”

Lance looks at Keith, alarmed. “I thought you said you hated him?” Lance says.

“And that we hit him with a chunk of ice,” Keith adds.

“Is he not _dead_?”

Ryetha scoffs. “It’d take more’n _ice_ to kill us!” she roars. “Thick headed, we are! And I don’t mean dumb, neither. Unfortunately, Max’el is the mayor of our little town. He’s the only one with access to the sort of tech that’d let you communicate with anyone not planet-side.”

“Wow, he is so not going to like us,” Lance mutters. “We hit him with _ice_.”

“Put him out for a good day and a half, you did!” Ryetha says cheerfully. “Yeah, he’s gonna hate your guts.”

And with that happy note, they continue through the landscape of nothingness and snow. Ryetha tells them more about their planet, mainly how it’s disjointed, and that half of its inhabitants don’t even believe in the existence of the Galra, her included. She’s more than happy to get them off her planet and back to fighting made-up wars, though.

“I think this is why Allura plans the Coalition recruitments,” Keith whispers to Lance, at one point. “Imagine if we just landed here and started pitching them our whole Voltron spiel.”

Within the hour, they’re pulling up to the little town Ryetha comes from. It’s bigger than Lance was expecting, but still tiny compared to most towns. There are areas where giant holes have been dug in the snow, and when they sled past one, Lance can’t see the bottom of it.

“That’s where we catch our dinner,” Ryetha says when she sees him looking. Lance doesn’t ask any more questions. He isn’t sure whether that hole leads to the ocean or some cave where they go hunting, and he doesn’t want to know.

They pass the town square, a truly dismal thing, and barely any of the town’s inhabitants bother to look up at Ryetha passing on her sled, even if she is accompanied by two outsiders. Finally, they pull up in front of a little snow-house — much more expertly built than their shoddy igloo — and Ryetha shoos them away.

“This is as far as I’ll go,” she says with a sniff. “The next time I step foot in Max’el’s house is the day he summons me for execution.” She spits on the snow in front of his house, makes a rude gesture, and whips her Not Dogs into action, zooming away from where Lance and Keith stand.

“Well. She was pleasant,” Lance ventures.

“I’m just scared to see what this guy is like,” Keith mutters, but they make their way to the entrance of the house anyway. There’s nothing to knock on, seeing as it’s made of snow and ice, so Lance just calls for Max’el while standing outside the door.

“Come in!” he yells, and Lance steps over the threshold first, peering around corners and into surprisingly spacious rooms until he comes across a set of stairs leading underground, lit by what looks like glowing rocks.

Down the stairs they go, until they arrive in the basement where Max’el is sitting behind a snow-desk, backed by two guards.

“Foreigners,” Max’el says.

“Um,” Keith says intelligently.

“Yes,” Lance cuts in. “We’re not from around here. We actually crash-landed on your planet after escaping from… kidnappers,” he says wisely, figuring it might be best to not mention the Galra.

“So you’re the ones that attacked me with ice,” Max’el says, folding his hands over his desk. “I thought the cold would’ve killed you by now.”

“We’re resourceful, sir,” Keith says. “And we’ll be happy to get out of your hair, we just need a way to contact our ship.”

Max’el huffs. “I should’ve expected this,” he says. “First you come here, uninvited, then you steal resources, and now you want my help.”

“We didn’t steal resources,” Lance says numbly.

“The pale one said you were _resourceful_ , yes?”

Lance holds back a snort. Keith bristles.

“We don’t want to take anything from you,” Lance says. “And if you let us contact our ship, we can repay you for the, um… resources… we used.”

“Flattery, flattery,” Max’el says, waving his hand flippantly. “I know better than to trust you by your word,” he snaps. And, okay, maybe Ryetha was right to hate this guy. He’s a total dick.

“How can we get you to trust us, then?” Keith says desperately.

“Easy,” Max’el says, sitting forward and looking suddenly interested. “We play a little game.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Keith mutters under his breath.

“Sounds great!” Lance says, speaking over him. “Please, sir, what game would you like to play?”

Max’el grins. “A little game of chance,” he says simply. “You win, you get to contact your friends and venture off into the unknown, no harm done. You lose, however… and you die.”

Lance blinks. “Okay,” he says.

“ _What?_ ” say both Keith and Max’el.

“I said okay,” Lance says with a shrug. He’s still got a week left. So this isn’t really a game of chance.

“Lance, now you’re just testing fate,” Keith hisses.

But Max’el is ecstatic. “Wonderful!” he says. “Come, sit!”

Keith lingers by the doorway, looking angry and anxious, and Lance sits across from Max’el, who pulls two glasses out from under his desk.

“Oh, wow, those are just under there all the time?” Lance says.

“Quiet,” Max’el says. “One of these is harmless snowmead,” he says. “The other is deadly poison. All you have to do is choose correctly.”

“I love when games are easy to understand,” Lance says.

“Lance, stop this,” Keith hisses. He’s standing behind Lance now, gripping his shoulder.

“Keith, chill. This is _just_ like The Princess Bride,” Lance says. “Except I haven’t been building up a tolerance to this poison for a year, so I don’t have that going for me.”

“This is insane,” Keith whispers, bending closer to Lance. “Let’s just leave. We can break in during the night, or something.”

Max’el clears his throat. “You’ll do no such thing,” he says icily.

Lance looks at Keith, his lips pursed. “Dude, your whispering game is weak.”

“Our hearing is immaculate,” Max’el interrupts. “Obviously, a primitive species such as yourselves can’t say the same,” he says, frowning with faux sympathy.

“That we can’t!” Lance says cheerfully. Max’el just looks even more irritated, and Lance grins even bigger.

Okay, so, the game. Not the one that Max’el is playing, but the one _Lance_ is playing. It started when he was a kid. When you have siblings, you have to learn to fight for yourself, and sometimes that means doing nothing more than refusing to get irritated when someone else is trying to irritate you.

Once, he accidentally made his little sister cry, doing this same kind of thing. And he’s found that having just a _tad_ bit of immaturity and a sense of humor can go a long way in space. Occasionally, super serious missions call for a bit of _not_ super seriousness.

So, yeah. That’s what Lance is doing. And it’s working, by the looks of it. Sure, it’s probably not enough to have Max’el decide to call off his dumb poisonous game, but it’s enough to give Lance some enjoyment as Max’el grows visibly more annoyed. And he’s not really worried about the game anyway. For now, luck is on his side. Lance can afford to be a little reckless.

Keith, apparently realizing that there’s no changing Lance’s mind, just sighs. Lance points to the cup on the left.

“That one,” he says.

“You’re sure?” Max’el says. “You don’t want to think about it?”

“Nah,” Lance says. “I’ve got a good feeling in my gut.”

Max’el looks flabbergasted. “I don’t know what planet you come from,” he says slowly, “but it must be a planet of idiots.”

Lance just grins, before leaning forward and grabbing the glass. He throws it back in one, licking his lips before looking between Keith and Max’el.

“Is that all?” he says. “When does it take effect?”

Max’el is just sitting there, gaping at him. Finally, he splutters, “I — that amount of poison…” he clears his throat. “The _acidity_ of it… Your insides should be dissolving right now!”

Lance smacks his lips, squinting in concentration. “Tastes pineapple-y,” he says. “You know, what our species lacks in brains and hearing, we make up for in stomach lining,” he says, pointing to his stomach. “We can digest a _lot_ of stuff.”

“You’re insane,” Max’el says. “You know what, I would be glad to have you off my planet. Follow me.”

He stands, and the guards behind him part, revealing a doorway at the back of the room. Lance and Keith follow him.

“I think he’s afraid we’re going to eat him,” Keith mutters to Lance. Ahead of them, Max’el makes a sound similar to a squeak, his footsteps speeding up. Lance grins at Keith in amusement.

The room they arrive in is full of technology. Don’t ask how it works while sitting in literal snow, because Lance has no idea, and he’s not even sure if Pidge could tell you.

Max’el gives them the information they require, shows them how to use the radio, and scurries out of the room in a hurry. Lance connects to the system and sends a distress signal on Voltron’s usual frequency.

“This is Princess Allura of Voltron, come in,” Allura says.

“What does the ten say to the four?” Lance says, deepening his voice. Keith just gives him this deadpan look, like he can’t believe Lance is delaying their inevitable rescue even longer. Lance puts a finger to his mouth, shushing him.

“What?” Allura says, sounding purely confused, not like she’s playing along with Lance’s pick-up line, but he’ll take it.

Imitating Allura (badly), he says, “ _This is Princess Allura of Voltron, come in_.”

In the background, someone laughs. Allura, sounding bemused, says, “Who is this? This frequency’s for emergencies, you know.”

“Allura, the way I feel about you _is_ an emergency,” Lance says in his regular voice. Keith punches him, albeit lightly, and Lance pulls him into his side and presses a kiss to his cheek as Allura responds.

“ _Lance!_ ” she shouts. “Thank goodness! We’ve been looking everywhere for you two — are you all right?”

“Sure are, Princess,” Lance says. “We’re in the Solobux Galaxy. Ice planet. Mind if we hitch a ride?”

Allura sighs, but even that sounds amused. “We’ll be there in a tick,” she says, and the connection dies.

“You’re dating _me_ ,” Keith mutters.

“Shit, I thought this was a fuckbuddy kind of thing,” Lance jokes, sucking in a breath through his teeth, and Keith laughs, shoving him. Lance just grabs his hands and pulls him after him. “You know I’m joking, right? ‘Cause Allura may be a literal princess, sure, but she’ll never compare to my horse-ridin’, hay-pickin’, rootin-tootin’ country boy.”

Keith’s expression is deadpan. “You know I didn’t live in a desert all my life, right?”

“I would hope not,” Lance scoffs. “You’re pale as fuck.”

“I’m _Korean_ ,” Keith snaps, and Lance hooks an arm around his waist. “And I’ve never even seen a horse in real life.”

"Keith, _please_ don't ruin my fantasy of you being a cowboy in another life. _Please_."

“I can’t believe I like you,” Keith mutters, but Lance hears it, and there’s a happy little bounce in his step all the way to the Castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had way too much fun with ryetha asdlfkaj


	26. if it's meant to shatter, it will

“Attention paladins!” Allura’s voice blares, and Lance jerks awake, groaning into Keith’s bare shoulder. “I regret to inform you that Lance has gone missing. It’s likely the prophecy finally went to his head. Everyone report to the bridge immediately.”

“Is she serious?” Keith grumbles, blinking blearily at the ceiling.

“I guess she went to my room and realized I wasn’t there,” Lance says, sighing heavily.

“But why wouldn’t she check my room?” Keith says. “I mean, after what happened yesterday…”

Lance snorts, wrapping an arm around Keith’s waist and tugging him a little bit closer.

Yeah, yesterday was definitely a bit of a fiasco. Lance could break it down into three stages.

_Stage 1: The return_

In their absence, the team had gone ballistic. They’d been contacting allies left and right, putting out search orders for the missing members of Voltron. Pidge had shut themselves in their lab, doing everything to attempt to track a pod that was already long gone, and deep underwater, on top of that.

Lance doubts any of them voiced it aloud, but he’s pretty sure they were all thinking something along the same lines: that Lance would live out the rest of his days wherever he and Keith had ended up stranded. Allura had been beating herself up particularly hard because everything that was happening went directly against the Lance Safety Seminar she’d presented on the bridge that one day. As his time dwindled, they weren’t supposed to let him out of their sight, and yet at that moment, none of them had even known where he was.

When he and Keith had contacted them, their spirits had soared. There’d been shouting and hugging as the two of them had returned to the ship, and Lance had taken it all in stride, knowing their worries weren’t unfounded. And then…

_Stage 2: The revelation_

After getting it all out of their system, Shiro ended up being the one to remind everyone that he and Keith had kissed in battle. They’d had to endure the worst of the worst at that point, because everyone had been shouting over each other and demanding answers.

“Really, in the middle of battle—” Allura had berated.

And, “Does this mean you’re dating now?” Hunk had said.

And, “So what does this mean for Keith’s prophecy?” Pidge had asked.

But they’d finally gotten everyone to settle down, revealing that yes, they were together. Everyone had gone quiet and thoughtful after that, but they’d been happy for them, more than anything else. And then…

_Stage 3: The absolute shitstorm_

Lance and Keith had gone to get dressed in their regular clothes before dinner. Given the fact that they’d been wearing their armor the majority of the time on that planet, Lance had totally forgotten about the sheer number of hickeys he’d left on Keith’s neck.

He’d abruptly remembered, however, when he’d walked into the kitchen to find all his friends literally screaming over each other as Keith stood there, a hand pressed firmly over his neck. Lance’s face had flamed.

“Guys!” he’d shouted.

“Holy shit! Holy shit!” Pidge had yelled.

“My _brother_ ,” Shiro had said, and Lance had shrunk away from his gaze, because Pidge was right: holy shit.

It’d taken a _while_ to get them to calm down, and Keith had chewed his ass out at the end of the night, though he’d still invited Lance into his room. And when they’d been in the bathroom together, brushing their teeth, his eyes had strayed to his neck, where the evidence of their activities remained, and his face had gone pink. Slowly, he’d raised a hand and pressed on one.

Then he’d cleared his throat.

“Not so visible next time, okay?” he’d said quietly.

Anyway. The new ones aren’t so visible, this time.

“We should get going,” Keith says with a sigh, because Allura’s definitely waiting for them and the rest of their friends are definitely panicking after her announcement.

Lance follows Keith to his feet, more because he’d follow a naked Keith anywhere than because of the urgency of Allura’s message, and he ends up pulling him in for a kiss, one hand on his hip and the other wrapped around the back of his neck. Keith immediately turns pliant against him, returning the kiss in turn, before he hums.

“We need to get going,” he says.

“One more minute,” says Lance, and one more minute becomes two, and then they’re on Keith’s bed, Keith sitting in Lance’s lap and Lance with his head titled back against the wall as Keith kisses his neck for the first time. Jesus, this feels good. He’s going to have to tell Keith to be careful. He has a feeling Keith will like seeing marks on him as much as he likes seeing marks on Keith.

“We need to get going,” Lance huffs, and Keith hums against his skin.

“One more minute,” he says.

And then Keith’s door flies open, and the entire team is standing out there, and everyone screams.

Lance whips the blanket over the two of them like it’s the only thing he was born to do, and Keith rolls off his lap and sits pressed against the wall beside him, shoulder-to-shoulder, as their friends continue to scream in the hallway. Lance stares at them, deadpan, with the blanket settled over his waist, meanwhile Keith has it pulled all the way up to his chin. If expressions could talk, Keith’s would be saying, _Please, dear God, just kill me now._

“You assholes!” Pidge shouts, stomping into the room.

“Oh, don’t come in here,” Keith bemoans. But Pidge broke the mold, and the rest of their friends follow them.

“We were worried about you!” Pidge snaps.

“We were on our way,” Lance protests.

“Oh, were you?” says Shiro. “Were you really?”

“Jesus Christ he’s going to kill me,” Lance says under his breath.

“Lance, we thought you’d disappeared,” Allura says sternly, her arms crossed. “And you _know_ you’re supposed to report in a hasty manner when I call you.”

“We were on our way,” Keith repeats, and Shiro laughs, splutters, and then chokes on his own spit. “Oh, shut up!” Keith says. “You can’t baby me, Shiro! I’m twenty— twenty… um, you know, I don’t actually know how old I am.”

“ _Exactly_ ,” Shiro erupts, and Keith throws his head back, groaning. This was the wrong move, as Lance’s hickeys haven’t quite faded away yet, and their friends scream again.

“Oh, shut up!” Lance says. “We’re sorry we didn’t report right away. That’s on us. But you guys have got to stop treating us so weirdly just because we’re having s—"

Shiro outright plugs his fingers in his ears and starts humming.

Lance sighs. “Seriously, guys. It’s natural. Also, I might die in—" he looks at his wrist comically “—six days! Don’t you think we deserve to enjoy ourselves?”

Hunk’s the only one who seems genuinely happy for Lance. Standing behind everyone else, he gives Lance an air high-five, which Lance is too embarrassed to return.

But Pidge just shudders. “It’s like thinking about Matt having sex,” they say, and then fake heave.

“You know what, let’s just conduct our meeting,” Allura says, attempting to forge through this horrible situation. “Now that Lance has been found, we can continue to other matters. We received a transmission from—"

“I’m sorry,” Lance interrupts. “Do you really want to have this meeting right now? Right here? Keith and I are naked.”

“No we’re not!” Keith shouts, tugging the blanket even farther over his chin.

“Where’s Coran?” Shiro says loudly. “He can ground them, right?” No one answers. “Can I ground them?”

Eventually, Lance persuades everyone to leave, and he persuades Keith’s corpse into standing and getting dressed. He even gives Keith his jacket, because it has a hood and a high collar and at least this way his hickeys won’t be on display. Even still, no one can seem to stop staring at Keith once they enter the bridge, because it’s obvious he’s wearing Lance’s signature jacket.

Lance can’t stop staring at him either, because he looks good in it, and Lance feels warm inside at the thought of Keith wearing his clothes.

Keith, for his credit, doesn’t seem to notice anyone staring at all. He seems to be lost in his own head, though occasionally, he looks down at his hands, which Lance’s sleeves cover halfway down the palm.

“As I was saying,” Allura says swiftly. “We received a rather strange transmission today.” She reaches forward and plays the recording.

 _“Voltron,”_ says a voice Lance doesn’t recognize. It’s a deep voice, and it sounds intimidating. _“Your darkest hour approaches. When all else fails, we, the Zhrytite, will be here to assist you. All we require is a great sacrifice.”_

With that, the message ends.

Pidge scoffs. “Oh, that’s _all_ you require?” Despite their joking words, they look uneasy, as does everyone else.

“I don’t see why we would need their help,” Keith says, breaking the heavy silence that falls. “We have allies all over. We can call on any number of them for help, were we to need it.”

“Agreed,” Hunk says, pointing at Keith. “Whatever sacrifice they want from us, we won’t give it.”

Lance is silent. It just seems obvious to him that this lines up all too perfectly with their timeline. If their darkest hour is approaching, then maybe, for some reason, their reinforcements won’t be enough. Maybe they’ll need the help of the Zhrytites. No one would want to suggest it, but it might be necessary. And no one would ask it of him, but Lance would volunteer to be a sacrifice before any of them could think to do so themselves.

“I don’t understand how they could know about our ‘darkest hour’ approaching,” Pidge says. “What, can they see the future too?”

“No,” Allura says. “It’s likely they just have intel we don’t. Furthermore, the Zhrytites aren’t exactly the most trustworthy of people. My father had very shaky relations with them.”

“It’s true,” Coran says. “They’re not joking about the sacrifice. Their people have strange and dangerous traditions. I didn’t trust them back then, and I don’t trust them now.”

“So that settles it,” Keith says abruptly. “We won’t ask them for help.”

Everyone nods in agreement, some of them talking over each other, but Lance can’t shake the feeling that it’s not going to be that simple. All this talk of ‘your darkest hour’ and ‘a great sacrifice’ seem to spell out nothing but trouble, to Lance. This illusion that he might survive seems determined to be chipped away, and Lance wonders how much longer it’ll take until it shatters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: _crack? is that crack you're writing?_  
>  also me: no, it's angst


	27. taste your own medicine

It’s been a weird day. Allura woke them all up earlier than normal, and at breakfast, she forced extra carbs and protein on all of them.

When Shiro suggested they kick the day off with some training, she stopped them, saying they had a lot on their itinerary and that training wasn’t a part of it. They had mandatory checks on their med packs, wherein Allura replaced any supplies they were missing (and refused to comment on the sheer amount of protein bars Lance was harboring in his). After that, they were sent to the bay to perform maintenance and diagnostic checks on their lions, which was just as boring as it always is.

Allura had them give their armor and bayards to Coran so he could check for any malfunctions, meanwhile diagnostic checks on the castle have been running all morning, meaning they were occasionally plunged into darkness or deafened with intercom testing for the duration of their odd chores.

To top it all off, they’re now disembarking on some random, abandoned planet for a reason none of them can discern.

“Allura,” Lance finally says as she looks around anxiously. “Can’t you just tell us what’s going on? What are you preparing us for?”

“I’m not preparing you for anything, what are you talking about?” she says nervously.

“Allura, you tried to make me wear a second pair of socks,” Pidge says, deadpan. “My shoes fit _fine_.”

“They’re a little roomy,” Allura hedges, and Pidge groans.

“Are we going to have to fight something? ‘Cause we can handle that,” Keith says.

“Yeah, what’s so different about this fight? Assuming we are gearing up for a fight,” Hunk adds.

“Listen,” Allura says, sighing heavily. “I’ve known about this coming fight for a while.”

“What?” says Shiro.

“I received some intel a while back. I didn’t want to tell you guys, because then everyone would just be worrying about it the whole time. And then there was that stuff with the prophecies, and it seemed like even worse of an idea—”

“I don’t understand,” Pidge says. “What’s so bad about this fight? Why would you think we wouldn’t be ready for it?”

“It’s not that I thought you wouldn’t be ready for it,” Allura says. “It’s just that there’s a lot depending on this battle. I didn’t want to psych you guys out.”

“That’s all the more reason that we should’ve been training for this,” Shiro says, starting to sound angry. “If so much is riding on this, we could’ve practiced more drills.”

“Drills are great, but you guys fight best when you don’t know it’s coming,” Allura says, her voice growing quieter.

“What rides on this?” Hunk asks, sounding nervous. And maybe Allura’s right about them fighting best when a battle comes out of the blue. When that happens, there’s no time to think; they just gear up and roll out. But when they get intel, when they plan an attack in advance, they get in their heads. It’s obvious that Hunk’s already becoming nervous.

Allura sighs. “This planet, Grunthin, holds very valuable resources, deep underground. Once a year, these resources emerge from the ground to absorb moonlight. Then they hibernate again.”

“And the Galra want to harvest this resource,” Lance guesses.

“Exactly,” Allura says. “We’re on the ground because our allies will be in the sky. We’re the last line of defense. We need to stop anyone who makes it to the ground.”

“And that’s why we’ve been recruiting so many people to the Coalition lately,” Pidge says, deadpan.

“Correct,” Allura says.

“You shouldn’t have kept this to yourself,” Shiro says, and Pidge crosses their arms, nodding in agreement. Even Hunk and Keith seems to be on Shiro’s side.

“I’m sorry,” Allura says. “But there’s no use in worrying about something like this prematurely.”

“I can think of a few reasons,” Keith mutters.

“When will they be here?” Shiro asks, and Allura sighs, looking around again.

“As soon as the energy crystals emerge, I assume. Just one is enough to power an entire battle cruiser, although I assume they’d be using them for their explosive properties instead.”

“Great,” Pidge mutters. “We’ll just be fighting on the ground on a planet full of bombs. Not like I had time to make some sort of shock-gear, or something.”

Allura looks stricken. Everyone else is muttering angrily among themselves, and Allura stands there looking smaller than usual, her arms held stiffly at her sides.

Soon enough, their friends begin to disperse. Shiro starts laying out the landscape, planning areas to best funnel attacks and refreshing them on different drills they can run.

Lance steps closer to Allura, clearing his throat. “It’ll be okay,” he promises. “They won’t stay mad for long.”

Allura lets out a watery-sounding laugh. “I don’t know how you put up with us, back on Jiigsew,” she says. “We were so cruel to you.”

“I was just doing what I thought was best for the team. Same as you,” Lance says. “They won’t hold this against you.”

“What if today is our darkest hour?” she says. “What do the Zhyrtites know that I don’t?”

Lance slings an arm around her shoulder, squeezing her into his side. “Nothing,” he promises. “We’re prepared for this, because you’re right, Allura. We do work best in the heat of the moment. We’ll be fine.”

A few hours later, just as dusk is falling, the first of the energy crystals emerge. They just pop out of the ground, glittering on the field. Almost immediately, explosions start decorating the skies, evidence of the fight happening out in space.

“This is the only area with the crystals, so they’ll likely land here. They’ll try to get as many crystals as they can, so I don’t think they’d go to the outskirts of the harvest area. Be prepared,” Allura advices them.

Hunk and Pidge ready their lions, prepared to attack the ships that breach the atmosphere and funnel them toward the area they can feasibly defend on the ground.

It starts out slow. One ship gets through the defense of their allies out in space, but Pidge tears them to shreds long before they can get anywhere near the planet’s surface. It continues like that, ships breaching the atmosphere in ones and twos and Hunk and Pidge taking them out with plenty of time to spare. But gradually, their numbers increase. Two ships becomes three, and then four. It gets to the point where occasionally, a ship makes it all the way to the ground, at which point the ground team has to fight off its crew.

This isn’t a real problem until one of the ships releases an army of droids. The fighting becomes much more prominent, and their priority turns toward stopping crew members from re-entering the ships, rather than preventing them from disembarking in the first place.

The battle quickly becomes vicious. It passes in a blur, Lance taking down the Galra and their droids one after another. At one point, he’s fighting near Shiro, and they run a quick drill where Lance leaps onto his back, Shiro spinning around as Lance lays down fire into the crowd.

The next time Lance really tunes into the battle, he’s racing through the crowd with Keith, the two of them targeting the Galra who already have bags of stolen gems on their backs. A droid trips Keith, but Lance catches his hand and swings him in a circle, and Keith’s sword slices through everyone in the vicinity. They part after that, and Lance fights alone for a while, keeping a hefty berth between him and the enemies around him.

The next thing he knows, he’s fighting next to Allura — he can’t remember whether he crossed the battlefield toward her or if she crossed it toward him. She’s communicating with their allies as she fights, sounding perfectly pristine and barely out of breath.

“There are more of them than our intel said there would be,” Allura growls, and Lance knows she’s speaking to him. “I didn’t recruit enough allies in time.”

“We can hold them off,” Lance says. “We just need to keep fighting until the crystals go back underground. Pull some reinforcements to the ground to help us with the fighting down here,” he advices, and Allura nods, before dodging a stray laser blast and dancing across the battlefield. Lance is on his own again.

He takes out a few droids before sniping a soldier racing toward a ship. The soldier falls, and gems spill out of the bag he was hauling on his back.

Lance whirls around, switching to the chaos happening at his back, and that’s when everything seems to move in slow motion. A huge, snarling soldier stands amidst a group of droids, and he’s glaring at Lance. He raises his blaster, and Lance jumps out of the way as he shoots it.

He can see the laser coming toward him, lower than he expected. It hits the ground a few feet in front of him, and a crystal explodes — dirt flies into the air all around him, and a wave of heat and pure energy explodes through him. Lance goes flying through the air, pain erupting all throughout his body, and then he hits the ground, digging a trench in it as he plows through the earth, miraculously avoiding any extra crystals.

“Lance!” someone cries through the comms, and Lance tries to respond, but the wind is knocked out of him, and he feels dizzy despite the fact that he’s laying down. Red, black, and blue swim into his vision — a red helmet, black hair, and piercing blue eyes.

“Lance!” he hears again, much closer this time, and his brain makes the connection. _Keith_.

“’M fine,” Lance croaks, trying to sit up.

“You’re not,” Keith says forcefully.

“Take him to the castle. He needs a pod,” Allura’s voice says in his ear, stern.

“I can take myself,” Lance says, forcing himself up onto his elbows.

“You’re in no shape to fly,” Keith says.

“They need you down here,” Lance says, and by some miracle, he stands. He wants to say it’s a wonder he’s not dead, but he honestly thinks it’s because the universe has a different death planned for him. One that’s still five days away.

“Lance,” Keith says, his voice sounding a little scared, a little desperate.

“It’s not that bad,” Lance promises. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes. That’ll take the edge off.”

“You are not getting out of that pod in just twenty minutes,” Shiro says over the comms. He’s all the way on the other side of the battlefield, but when Lance turns to look at him, he finds Shiro glaring holes right through him.

If it were up to Lance, he wouldn’t step foot in a healing pod at all. Already, the adrenaline’s taking over, the pain fading to the background. But there’s no way his friends will let him stay here right now.

“Thirty minutes,” Keith says. “Just — don’t come back until it stops hurting.”

“And don’t get hurt while I’m gone,” Lance says. “Watch your back.”

Together, they fight through the crowd toward Blue. Keith does most of the fighting, because with every step Lance realizes more and more just how fucked up his body is from that blast, but he contributes a few good shots on their way to his lion. Keith squeezes his arm before he climbs aboard, and Lance sits himself gingerly in the pilot’s seat, Blue powering up and taking off all on her own.

“Good girl,” Lance mutters.

The fight outside the atmosphere is just as bad as it is on the planet, if not worse. Their allies are scattered and spread thin, and Lance doesn’t look for too long, afraid he’ll see one of them meet their demise.

Coran accosts him the second he lands in the bay, dragging him to a healing pod immediately.

“Only twenty minutes, Coran,” Lance grunts, slumping against the inside of the glass.

“Mhm,” Coran says noncommittally. Lance has a feeling Coran might be setting it for longer than twenty minutes, but he can’t find it within himself to argue. Every part of him hurts, and exhaustion weighs down on him. It’ll be nice to close his eyes for a few minutes.

\--

When the pod opens, Lance can immediately tell more than twenty minutes have passed. He scrambles out of the pod on wobbly legs and reaches for his helmet, slamming it onto his head. Instantly, he can hear the clamor of battle.

“Over here!” Hunk shouts.

“ _Shit_ ,” Shiro curses.

“Fucking hell, how are there so many of them?” Pidge demands.

Lance is already running to the bay. It isn’t until he hears Keith cry out in pain that he comes to a stop, standing in the middle of the bridge.

“Keith!” Allura shouts.

“He’s fine, I’ve got ‘im,” Coran says, apparently down there with them. That can’t be good. They rarely have to call on Coran for backup.

The decision is easy.

Lance doesn’t announce his himself over the comms. In fact, he silences them, his friends’ voices abruptly shutting out.

At Allura’s station, he pulls up their recent communications. A scarred, grizzled-looking alien appears. Lance clears his throat.

“Are you the leader of the Zhrytite?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this prompt's a little more obscure, but it refers to everyone being mad at allura, just like how she was to lance a while back. she got a taste of her own medicine


	28. while i thought i was learning how to live, i have been learning how to die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, i just wanted to take a moment to thank all of you for your comments on my (now deleted) author's note last chapter. your support was much needed and your patience much appreciated. i didn't mention what actually happened yesterday because fic is a place we all go to escape, and i never want you guys to go to that place only to be confronted with something heavy (i say, providing for you all a Very Angsty fic lol). but fiction and reality are v different and i didn't want to unload any irl angst on you guys.
> 
> anyway, thanks again for all your patience and your kind words. i'm going to try my best to upload these last chapters daily -- at most, there might be a day in between updates, but i'm hoping this weekend will be both productive and distracting lmao. i love and appreciate you guys a lot and i hope you're all doing well! enjoy the chapter and have a great night <3
> 
> (also, sorry for a p angsty chapter lmao)

The alien grins. “I am,” he says. “My name is Raghir. And I can see that you are the Blue Paladin.”

“Yes,” Lance says. “We received your transmission yesterday. I was wondering if it was too late to accept your assistance.”

“It is never too late,” Raghir says. “As long as your team is willing to provide a sacrifice.”

“I’ll provide it,” Lance says, his voice suddenly thin. Quiet. “When would you require the sacrifice? And how soon can you assist us?”

“Within four days, is traditional,” Raghir says. “And aid is on the way as we speak.”

There’s a roaring in his ears. Four days. He knows, given the time they started fighting and the time he spent in the pod, that the number on his wrist matches that deadline exactly. It feels too obvious. Fake, almost. And yet Lance knows it’s real.

This whole month, everything has felt kind of warped. Distorted. The days passing both in a flurry and yet slowly at the same time. The day he received his prophecy simultaneously feels like it was ages ago and just yesterday.

He thought he was prepared. He thought he was protecting his friends, by not telling them. He thought he was finally indulging himself, by letting him be with Keith. Experiencing everything he might not have the chance to experience, at the end of this.

All this time, he thought he was learning to live. But really, he’s been preparing himself to die.

His hands are shaking, but they’re out of frame. He expects his voice to be shaking, too, when he speaks, but it’s stronger. Firm. He knows what he’s doing, and he knows what’s coming, and he’s doing it anyway. He’s doing it for his friends. “Can you help us without it being obvious?”

“Ah, so your team doesn’t know,” Raghir says wisely. “No wonder you volunteered yourself.”

Lance waits, anxious.

“Yes, it is possible,” he says finally. “Our assistance will be subtle. Your team will not notice.”

“Thank you,” Lance says, deflating.

“Thank _you_ ,” Raghir says. Lance wishes he wouldn’t grin at a time like this.

He turns his comms back on, flinching at the sound of his friends in battle. He hops in Blue, and they shoot out of the Castle, the particle barrier closing around it behind them. Lance swoops between their allies’ ships, taking out a dozen Galra fighters, before nose-diving back toward the planet.

“Lance!” Hunk cries, the first to note his return. The Green Lion is no longer in the air. Pidge must’ve been called to the ground.

Lance helps Hunk trash a few of the Galra ships in the skies, but the ground’s his true target. Keith is down there, and he needs someone at his back.

“Have no fear, Lance is here!” Lance shouts. Keith is the first to groan, and that’s how Lance knows he’s all right, whatever blow he suffered earlier evidently not too serious.

“Good timing, Lance,” Allura says. “You all healed up?”

“Yes, thanks to Coran,” Lance says darkly.

“Twenty minutes in a pod does nothing,” Coran claims. “You would’ve come out feeling just as bad as before.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance says, and he rolls out of Blue’s mouth the second she touches down. “Let’s rally. I’ve got a good feeling about this fight.”

“Wow, maybe I should take a healing pod break,” Hunk jokes. “I could use some optimism too.”

There are more people on the ground than when Lance left, which means Allura must’ve taken his advice. He recognizes people from all sorts of planets, alliances new and old. They’re mixed in with Voltron and the Galra, fighting tooth and nail.

Keith’s deep in the crowd, and it’s going to take a while to reach him. Lance starts fighting through their enemies, having to be more careful than before. There are more allies he could accidentally hit, now.

He fights for what feels like forever. Normally, after emerging from a pod, they’re told to rest. The pod heals their injuries, but their bodies still need time to process, to come back from it all. Lance has never jumped back into a battle like this before, and he’s feelings the effects of it acutely.

He can’t help feeling like he would’ve made it to Keith’s side by now if he’d never been injured. He takes down enemy soldiers, suffers stupid wounds that he probably wouldn’t have had he been at the top of his game, fights alongside strangers and friends.

When the hell is Zhyrtite’s help going to arrive?

“Lance!” Pidge shouts, showing up beside him. They do that a lot. Lance nearly shot them, once, on one memorable occasion. And he almost shoots them again, just out of pure alarm when they say, “I realized something about the prophecy!”

“Pidge, I love you, but now’s _really_ not the time,” Lance says, just before a Galra solider tackles him. They sprawl on the ground, and Lance manages to pin him and shoot him before he can do the same to Lance.

“Just don’t worry!” Pidge says. And then they explode.

Lance wonders if that’s what he looked like, yesterday. A stray blast must’ve hit a crystal near their feet, but whereas Lance was a good few feet away from crystal that blew him up, Pidge was standing right on top of it.

It’s like watching a car crash. Pidge flies into the air, their body thankfully not in pieces, but when they hit the ground, they land on another crystal and the explosion happens all over again.

Lance can feel a scream trapped in his throat. It feels like all the air’s escaped from him, and he doesn’t know what to do, can’t remember how to breathe.

Every instinct he has tells him Pidge is still alive, that they have to be, but the crushing weight of despair is pressing in on him, and he doesn’t know how they could possibly survive two direct blasts like that. Even from here, he thinks he can see blood.

He realizes then that his friends are screaming in his ear. Shiro’s racing through the crowd, the first one to reach Pidge’s side. Lance is frozen in place. He should’ve been stabbed or shot by now, he thinks, having been sitting there for so long. It isn’t until then that he realizes the Galra are retreating, none of them with gems in their hands.

Irrationally, for a second, he thinks it’s because of Pidge. That somewhere deep in their enemies’ hearts, they realized the battle is over. That it can’t go on — not if Pidge is dead.

But then he realizes that it must have something to do with the Zhyrtite. That they’ve succeeded, and the Galra are leaving, and Lance owes a debt.

Pidge can’t be dead. Because if Pidge is dead, then his friends are going to experience two crushing blows, one after the other, and he can’t do that to them. He _can’t_.

Somehow, Lance manages to get to his feet. And then he’s running, and Shiro already has Pidge in his arms, and Coran’s disappeared — likely to the Castle. He has to prepare a pod.

“Pidge!” Lance gasps, pulling up beside Shiro.

“She’s breathing,” he says. Shakes his head. “They’re breathing. I just — we have to go. We have to—"

“Come on,” Keith says, and Lance realizes he’s standing at his elbow. Shiro’s shaking like a leaf, but he manages to run to the Black Lion. The Galra are gone, but nobody seems to notice. Lance wonders if they would’ve left the planet like this even if the Galra had still been here.

“Make sure they get to a pod,” Allura calls. “I have to contact our allies. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Pidge can’t die. Because if Pidge dies, Allura’s going to think that they died mad at her. That — that can’t happen. None of this can happen.

“Breathe, Lance,” Keith says. They’re almost at their lions. How can Keith tell he’s hyperventilating when they’re both running? When they’ve been out of breath for hours? “They’ll be all right,” he promises. “Okay?”

Lance nods. He gets in his lion and flies to the Castle. By the time he makes it to the med bay, Pidge is already inside one of the cryopods, and Coran’s messing with the settings, scarily calm.

“Pidge is going to be all right,” he informs them. Lance collapses against Keith’s side. “They’ll need a couple days, but they’ll be okay.”

“Oh, thank God,” Hunk says. Lance didn’t even see him leave — he must’ve followed Shiro right off the planet.

Everything feels like too much. Too overwhelming. Only four days remain, and Pidge is in a pod, and Lance owes a life-debt, and no one knows that he made a promise he’ll have to keep.

Four days remain, and that amount of time has never felt shorter — not even when he had a huge report due in the same amount of time that he’d yet to start despite it being assigned months before.

Pidge looks small and pale and _young_ behind the glass of the pod. _Just don’t worry,_ they’d told him.

What had Pidge discovered about his prophecy that he hadn’t? What do they know? How the hell did they manage to find some solution in the midst of _battle_ when Lance hadn’t been able to do the same in a month?

And would they be out of the pod in time to tell Lance, or would they emerge too late, only to find that Lance was already gone?


	29. shadows

The Castle feels like it’s full of ghosts. The fact that Pidge is going to survive hasn’t fully sank in, not to mention, tensions are high as the number on Lance’s and Keith’s wrists dwindle.

Everyone has shadows under their eyes. Lance isn’t sure whether anyone got any sleep last night. He knows sure as hell that he didn’t. He laid in bed for a long time before eventually getting up and knocking softly on Keith’s door, just in case he was asleep.

He wasn’t.

Keith called for him to come in immediately, and they laid in bed together for hours, awake but saying nothing.

Now, they’re all sitting in the dining room, though nobody’s touched their food much. Coran’s in the med bay, checking on Pidge for the umpteenth time, and that’s when conversation turns in a direction that has Lance clamming up.

“You know what’s weird?” Shiro says, pushing his food around on his plate. Lance can’t remember the last time he saw him take a bite.

“Hm?” Allura hums, dejected.

“I didn’t really think about it at the time, but how weird is it that the Galra just left, yesterday?”

Hunk frowns, staring at his breakfast intensely.

“You’re right,” he says suddenly. “I was so worried about Pidge, but — all their fighter jets just stopped. They turned around and left.”

Everyone’s murmuring in confusion, and Lance is just sitting there, his body weirdly still. You can almost always count on seeing some part of Lance in motion. He’s the kind of guy who’s always bouncing his knees or tapping his feet or running his mouth. Rarely do you see him just sitting there, completely still.

And Keith is looking at him. His is the only expression not inherently confused. He seems to have come to a realization that the others haven’t, and Lance bites the inside of his cheek while he waits for the confrontation.

And sure enough…

“Lance,” Keith says slowly, his voice low. Lance looks at him, trying not to give anything away with his expression.

“Yes?”

“What did you do?”

Everyone’s looking at him now. They seem to be coming to the same realization. Allura already has a look of horror on her face.

“We were losing,” Lance says abruptly, already on the defensive.

“Oh, God,” Allura murmurs.

“And you guys were still fighting after I’d been in the pod for who knows how long, and our allies were getting slaughtered, and just _imagine_ if we’d still been fighting after Pidge was injured—”

“Lance,” Shiro says warningly.

“I called the Zhyrtite,” Lance says. No more bullshit. No more avoidance.

“Oh, Lance,” Hunk whispers.

“They sent help immediately. And they said they wouldn’t need a sacrifice for another four days.”

“But that was yesterday,” Keith interrupts, sounding alarmed.

Lance smiles at him sadly. “Yeah,” he affirms. “Three days now.”

Everyone seems stunned into silence. Lance is pretty sure he can guess what’s going on in their minds right now.

1) Lance is an idiot, and he’s going to sacrifice himself in three days  
2) Pidge almost died, and it could’ve been worse if the Galra hadn’t left when they did

And possibly:

3) If the Zhyrtite don’t end up killing Lance, I’m going to, just for the all the shit he’s put us through

“I’m not sorry,” Lance says boldly. “I was already prepared to die. And even if we had won yesterday’s battle, we would’ve lost a whole lot of allies. And selfishly, I’d rather it be me than any of you guys.”

“Lance, we’re not _mad_ ,” Allura says, staring at him intensely. Lance frowns. He definitely thought he’d be putting out fires, here. Convincing his friends not to be mad at him in his final hours. “We’re _sad_.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Keith says forcefully. “A sacrifice doesn’t necessarily mean _death_.”

No one argues with him, but no one agrees, either. It’s obvious that they’re all expecting the same thing. Lance’s heart twists violently in his chest at the thought of leaving Keith behind like this. He’s going to break his heart, not that Lance would ever do so on purpose.

“One last thing,” Lance says, because maybe he’s a masochist. Maybe he doesn’t want Keith to lose hope, as cruel as it is. Because he doesn’t want to see Keith despair, and he thinks that as long as at least one person retains even the smallest bit of hope, all isn’t lost. “Pidge told me something right before they… well. Right before.”

“What?” Hunk says, sounding anxious.

“They said, ‘I realized something about the prophecy. Just don’t worry.’”

Everyone falls silent.

“But… what?” Allura finally says.

“I know,” says Lance.

“What could Pidge have possibly figured out?” Shiro demands, looking both bewildered and desperate.

“I don’t know,” Lance says softly. “But they didn’t know that I’d called on Zhyrtite for help, either.”

“That doesn’t change the future,” Keith points out. “Or the prophecy.”

“We’ll just have to ask Pidge,” Hunk says, sounding suddenly hopeful.

Just then, Coran walks into the dining room.

“Good news, everyone!” he announces. “Pidge should be out and about in no time! Less than a week, I’d say!”

Despite the good news, a horrified silence falls around the table.

\--

“If Pidge can figure it out, so can we,” Allura says brashly (not to mention untruthfully). Lance doesn’t want to be offensive, but he’s not sure any of their minds can rival Pidge’s. Well, other than Hunk’s. But while he’s a genius in all sorts of areas, things like riddles and philosophy have never been his strong suit.

“ _Time_ is _short_ ,” Shiro says. Everyone’s been mumbling Lance’s prophecy to themselves, as if saying it aloud in a myriad of ways is going to make it reveal its meaning to them. “Pidge is short,” he says consideringly. “Pidge… was blown up.”

“Time _is_ short. Pidge _is_ time. Pidge controls time?” Hunk counters, and Lance turns away from them with a sigh. Forgive him, but he doesn’t really think that’s the answer they’re looking for.

Across the room, Keith has set up a cork board. It’s exactly what you would expect. Sections of Lance’s prophecy are pinned to the board, along with instances that Keith thinks relates to it, including his own prophecy. There’s red string connecting everything, to top it all off, and it’s incredibly reminiscent of the cork board from his house in the desert, evidence of his search for the Blue Lion.

In Lance’s humble opinion, both cork boards are kind of bullshit, not that Lance doesn’t think they’re totally adorable and endearing.

Keith’s standing in front of his creation, his arms crossed as he ponders it intently.

‘That which you fear approaches’ is connected to several things, some of which Lance didn’t even realize Keith knew he was scared of. There’s a picture of Earth, but the planet looks devastated. And there’s a picture of the Galra. There’s even a picture of spiders, and — possibly just to amuse Lance — a single sticky note that says ‘hets.’

Conveniently, the only thing he’s forgotten is death.

As for ‘death knocks on your door,’ there’s a string connecting the quote to a crude drawing of Death (done by Keith, Lance realizes fondly), a door, and a knock knock joke. (“Knock knock.” “Who’s there?” “Death.” “Death who?”)(There is no punchline. Lance isn’t entirely sure whether Keith understands knock knock jokes.)

“Pidge controls time, and _future Pidge_ blew our Pidge up in order to save the space-time continuum,” Coran declares, and when Lance turns, he finds that Hunk and Shiro have recruited him.

“That’s _it_!” Shiro exclaims.

“It absolutely isn’t,” Lance says, more amused than anything else.

“Don’t be small-minded, Lance,” Hunk scoffs. “What, you don’t think Pidge could be a time traveler? You don’t believe in them?”

Across the room, Allura sighs. She has four tablets in front of her, and she’s scrolling through all of them intermittently.

“There haven’t been any recent disturbances of space-time,” she says, as if it’s obvious.

“Wait, so time travel’s real?” says Hunk.

Allura just looks up at him. “You were debating the likelihood of Pidge being a time traveler without knowing time travel is real?” she says incredulously. “What _else_ don’t Earthling’s know?”

Shiro just groans. “Back to the drawing board,” he says reluctantly. “Death knocks on _your_ door.”

Lance rolls his eyes fondly, and then he steps closer to Keith, sliding an arm around his waist.

“Knock knock,” he says.

“Who’s there?”

“Juno,” Lance says.

“Juno who?” says Keith.

“Juno I love you, don’t you?”

Keith frowns (evidence of him not realizing there’s a punchline?), then snorts. “Did you come up with that?” he asks.

“Not at all,” Lance says. “Do you want to take a break?”

“I think I’m getting somewhere,” Keith says. There’s now a string connecting Keith’s prophecy to the drawing of a door.

“Time for a break,” Lance urges, squeezing Keith’s hip gently, and Keith leans into him with a sigh.

“I’m not letting you go without a fight,” he says quietly.

“Aw man, we’re gonna fight?” Lance jokes.

Keith scoffs, but he turns his head to kiss Lance anyway. For now, with his eyes closed, that’s enough. For now, with his eyes closed, he isn’t so scared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good news! i went grocery shopping for the first time in forever and DIDN'T eat fast food for dinner tonight. b proud of me


	30. "every second is another heartbeat wasted"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up, this chapter has smut
> 
> and listen to this song before reading the chapter. trust me, you'll appreciate it Much More: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7-m9uG50mSw

It was a long day.

Nobody’s been in an especially good mood, because despite the hope they’re clinging to thanks to Pidge’s unknown realization, the anxiety over what’s to come is overpowering.

At breakfast, they had a debate over whether Lance’s and Keith’s countdowns went to one or zero.

“One,” Lance had said. “That’s when the sacrifice is happening.”

That’s how he’d said it. Not, _tomorrow. Tomorrow’s when the sacrifice is happening._ Because ‘tomorrow’ sounds much more daunting, and much too close to _now_. And that was all the way at the beginning of the day, when the number on his wrist was fresh and new, promising a whole day of life to him. Now, it won’t be much longer before that two changes to a one. The last number Lance will ever see on his wrist.

Everyone had started taking sides, trying to decide whether they had one more day than they’d initially thought. Even Keith had wanted to believe it, but Lance never said what he was thinking. If the number really does go down to zero, then that just means he’s going to end up sacrificing something else and dying the next day.

After breakfast, everyone had wanted to return to the rec room. Keith especially, because he’d been wanting to work on his conspiracy board, but Lance had convinced them not to. If Pidge figured something out, then they figured something out. Great. If they were right, then Lance could just not worry, like they’d advised him. Knowing whatever it is they figured out wasn’t going to change anything.

And he’d said as much to his friends. Said that he didn’t want to spend today (just ‘today,’ not his ‘last _real_ day’) holed up in the rec room and coming up with a bunch of theories that they’d have no way of proving true.

Thankfully, Allura heard everything he didn’t say, and she ended up organizing a day that was pretty much perfect. As perfect as it could be with one of them stuffed in a cryopod, anyway.

She’d taken them to a nice, peaceful planet. There was this giant waterfall and this beautiful meadow and it felt totally unreal. They picnicked on the planet and Allura tried to have them do all these ‘calming’ activities. Literally. There were all kinds of art supplies, not that any of them are particularly artistic, and Lance was pretty sure she’d intended for them to recreate the beautiful scenery around them.

It was a great idea, in theory. She must’ve just forgotten who she was dealing with.

About ten minutes into the Peaceful Painting Session, things got rowdy. Coran’s painting was totally abstract, and Allura’s was actually pretty good. Hunk’s was less so, but he’d been squinting at his canvas in concentration, holding his paintbrush with his teeth as he’d scraped away at a mistake with his finger. Shiro had just looked sad. Lance was pretty sure his prosthetic wasn’t well equipped for such fine motor movements.

And then, the belle of the ball: Keith.

His art station was set up right next to Lance’s. He’d been glaring at the canvas in pure frustration, a smudge of paint on his cheek and several paintbrushes in his hand. Instead of dipping them in water, he’d reserved a single paintbrush for each color. Don’t ask Lance how he managed to blend anything.

Lance hadn’t been able to see Keith’s painting from that angle, but Keith was a pretty enough picture all by himself. Which, of course, was why he was attempting to paint him.

Key word: attempting. Lance’s artistic abilities range somewhere in the negatives, unfortunately. And Keith had realized this abruptly when he’d leaned over to peek at Lance’s canvas, only to see a crude drawing of himself.

“Is that… supposed to be _me_?” he’d said, sounding rightfully offended.

“What? Is it not accurate?” Lance had said. Keith The Painting had a truly monstrous mullet, those classic angry eyebrows shaped like a V, and a big fat frown complementing his face.

“Draw me better!” Keith had demanded.

Lance had puffed up his cheeks, crossing his arms as he’d looked from Keith to the portrait and back again. Finally, he’d blown the air out of his mouth, shaking his head slowly. “Nope. I can’t do any better than this,” he’d said.

And that’s when Keith had thrown a paintbrush at him.

(And, come on. It’s _them_. There’s no way Lance could’ve turned down a challenge as blatant as that — especially when he’d had paint in his hair.)

It’d become a full out war after that. Paint was flung, pride was injured, and people were wrestled. Surprisingly, Shiro had joined in as well, although Lance thinks he probably would’ve taken any opportunity to get away from the stress of painting.

Lance had managed to convince everyone to go for a swim under the waterfall at one point. They’d stayed and played on that planet until the sun had set. It’d been a really good day. And it sucked that it was over.

After going their separate ways after dinner, Lance had received many spontaneous hugs from his friends. Just in case, he thinks. Just in case they don’t get a chance to, later.

“I can hear you thinking,” Keith whispers. He’s the little spoon tonight, fitting against Lance so perfectly that Lance thinks he was made to be there.

“I thought you were asleep,” Lance murmurs, reaching up and brushing Keith’s hair away from his face.

“Can’t sleep,” Keith admits. He rolls around, then, turning to face Lance. He looks beautiful, always. Lance doesn’t know how he does it, and with literally no effort, either. He has bags under his eyes, because none of them have been sleeping well, and his hair’s all flat on one side where he’s been laying on it as it dried from the shower. There are pillow creases on his cheek and he’s just so astoundingly perfect, so beautiful, that Lance thinks his heart’s going to beat right out of his chest so that it can be closer to him.

“I’m sorry,” Lance says.

“For what?”

“For everything,” Lance says. “I’m sorry if I die tomorrow. I’m sorry if I can’t spend the rest of my life with you, falling more and more in love with you every day. I’m sorry that every second is another heartbeat wasted.”

“Don’t say that,” Keith murmurs. His hand is on Lance’s cheek, and his thumb brushes over Lance’s bottom lip. “Every one of your heartbeats is a gift to the universe. Proof that you’re alive, that you exist. A reason for mine to keep beating, too.”

Lance’s heart combusts. The feelings inside him are overwhelming, and he’s grinning. Keith looked so serious while saying the absolute softest thing Lance has ever heard come out of his mouth. And his thumb is still against Lance’s lips, almost like he’s trying to shush him before he can speak, if the embarrassed expression on his face is anything to go by.

“Keith Kogane,” Lance says, still grinning. The smallest of groans emits from Keith. “By God, you might just be a romantic after all.”

“Lance,” Keith complains.

“Oh, you’re totally the type,” Lance continues. “Flowers, chocolates, what have you. You’re an all-in kind of guy, aren’t you?”

“Shut up.”

“Never,” Lance says. “You might as well just tell me you love me, you know? Those are some pretty strong words you just said.”

Keith rolls on top of him, straddling him and pinning him to the bed. He has one hand over Lance’s mouth to keep him from talking, and the other has Lance’s hands pinned above his head. Lance raises his eyebrows at him.

“Mm-my,” he says into Keith’s hand.

“I can’t hear you,” Keith says.

“Mm-my!” Lance repeats.

Keith’s smiling now. He looks gorgeous. Dear lord, who put an angel on Lance’s lap? “Sorry Lance, I don’t know what you— _ugh_! Did you just _lick_ me?”

“I _said_ , ‘kinky!’” Lance blurts out, and Keith just shakes his head, wiping his hand on the sheets.

“You’re disgusting.”

“You love it.”

“Sounds fake.”

“Kiss me.”

And Keith does. He leans down and Lance pulls him in. Like this, everything feels perfect in the universe. Not a problem to be found, when it’s just him and Keith and two pairs of underwear between them.

Speaking of: Lance snaps Keith’s waistband against his hip. “Imagine this exact scenario,” he says, pulling away from Keith’s mouth. Keith isn’t deterred — he goes for the neck instead. “But naked.”

“Sometimes you say the smartest things,” Keith says. He kisses Lance’s neck then chest before sitting up enough to wriggle out of his boxers, and Lance follows suit.

“I believe in miracles,” Lance mumble-sings under his breath. “Where you from?”

“Lance,” Keith says sternly. “We’ve talked about this. No singing.”

“You sexy thing! You sexy thing, you!” Lance continues, sitting up and pushing Keith down on the bed. He huffs grumpily, but the curl of his mouth belies his true feelings. Plus, he’s still hard. So.

Lance leans across Keith to grab the lube from his bedside drawer, and now he sings into it like a microphone. “I believe in miracles!” he sings. “Since you came along! You sexy thing!”

“My God,” Keith murmurs. His hand is resting on the side of Lance’s thigh, and he’s shaking his head, but he’s grinning.

Lance points at him. “Where did you come from, baby? How did you know I needed you so badly?”

Finally, Keith plays along. “How did you know I’d give my heart gladly? Yesterday, I was one of a lonely people.”

“Now you’re lying close to me, making love to me,” Lance says, grinding in the air above Keith. Keith covers his face with his hands. Lance hears him giggle anyway.

He squirts the lube onto his fingers, and Keith’s legs part automatically. Lance has the grace not to mention Pavlov.

“We have to rough it out here in space,” Lance says. He reaches between Keith’s legs, and Keith is looking at him now, his eyebrows raised. “Have to make our own mood music,” Lance elaborates.

“We absolutely do not,” Keith argues, and then he sighs as Lance pushes a finger into him.

They really haven’t done this all that much, but it feels like they have. They’ve definitely made time for it wherever possibly, because… Well, because they’re two young guys who really like each other. What other reason do they need?

But in reality, it’s only been a week since Lance touched Keith for the first time. It feels like it’s been longer, simply because time has become a really weird element these days, but it’s still a novelty. It’s still just as amazing to Lance that Keith lets him do this to him, that they can touch each other like this and share moments like these.

Keith sucks in a breath and Lance immediately halts. “Did I hurt you?” he says.

“I’d tell you if you’d hurt me,” he says. “Keep going.”

So Lance does. Keith’s cheeks get pinker, and the flush spreads down his neck, to his chest. He’s breathing heavily, his eyes lidded as he stares at Lance, occasionally arching his back when Lance does something right.

“I’m ready,” Keith says.

“I usually prep you for longer,” Lance points out.

“Don’t care. I’m ready.”

Lance snorts, but he pulls his fingers out of Keith and lubes himself up anyway. “Would it be crazy if I put your legs over my shoulders?”

Keith’s stares at him for a second, then quickly shakes his head. “Not crazy,” he decides. So Lance grabs Keith by the calves and pulls his legs up over his shoulders. This leaves Keith’s waist floating above the bed, and he’s blushing visibly.

“I believe in miracles…” Lance mumbles.

“I will kick you in the head,” Keith says, glaring. He very quickly stops glaring, however, as Lance presses into him. It takes a bit more concentration and control than usual, holding Keith up and guiding himself in at the same time, but it’s worth it, solely for the expression on Keith’s face. His mouth immediately drops open, and his eyelids flutter as he sucks in a breath. “Holy shit,” he says.

“Good?” Lance says. All he wants is to slam into Keith, to start rocking in and out of that beautiful boy, but the last thing he’d ever want to do is hurt Keith, so he holds still. Waits.

“Yes,” Keith says urgently. “You can — you can move.”

Lance holds Keith’s hips steady, Keith’s ankles crosses behind his back, and starts to move. He groans immediately, and he stares down at Keith, who’s splayed under him like a dream come to life, sweaty and panting and warm and whimpering.

“Tell me when,” Lance mutters. He shifts his angle with every thrust until Keith cries out, his hand scrabbling for Lance’s, his fingers wrapping around Lance’s wrist at his own hip.

“There!” he gasps, and Lance starts to thrust harder, faster. Keith’s not as quiet anymore, now that they’ve done this a few times, and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to Lance. The sounds he makes… it’s like a symphony designed specifically for Lance’s ears. Not that he would say that. Merely mentioning the noises Keith makes has him falling silent, either in embarrassment or simply because he likes to torture Lance — Lance still isn’t sure.

“Fuck,” Lance pants. He wants to be closer to Keith. Wants to feel his body against his own. Except every part of him that isn’t his brain protests at the thought of pulling out of Keith for even a second, so he just pushes Keith’s legs against his chest and leans closer to him.

“Oh my God,” Keith moans, and Lance laughs, running his hand down Keith’s leg.

“Babe, you’re flexible,” he points out.

“Didn’t realize,” Keith says. And then he’s spreading his legs, and Lance slots in between them. He plants a hand by Keith’s head and grabs his cock with the other, making Keith moan. “Always thought goodbye sex would be slower than this,” Keith jokes, gasping in between his words.

Lance stutters to a stop. The hand stroking Keith stills. “This isn’t goodbye sex,” he protests. The thought has his heart crumbling. “Keith, I’m — I’m going to do everything in my power to never, _ever_ leave you. And Pidge figured something out, right?”

“Now look who’s the optimist,” Keith says fondly. And then, before Lance even has the chance to respond: “I’m in love with you.”

Lance’s mouth drops open. He grins and laughs and Keith’s shaking his head, because he’s always shaking his fucking head.

“Me too,” Lance blurts. “I mean. I’m in love with you, too.”

“I know that, you dork.”

“Right,” Lance says. “I just — I needed to say it back.”

A moment passes.

“Are we going to stay like this forever?” Keith asks, and then deliberately squeezes around him. Lance jerks forward automatically.

“You totally ruined the mood, babe. All my sexual feelings have been replaced with gross, lovey-dovey feelings.”

“Your dick begs to differ,” Keith points out, and just for that, Lance rocks back and slams into him.

“I’m gonna finish fucking you,” Lance says, stroking Keith again. “And then I’m gonna spoon you and we’re gonna talk about our feelings for _hours_.”

“I love it when you talk dirty,” Keith jokes. Just for that, Lance fucks him even harder. If their bed wasn’t literally a hole in the wall, its bedposts would be banging against it. As it is, the only sound in the room is the sound of their skin slapping and Keith’s wanton, broken-off moans.

Keith comes first, only because Lance was determined to have it that way. He cries out, and he squeezes around Lance, and Lance follows him right over the edge, gasping as he does.

“Fuck,” Keith mumbles, still catching his breath.

“Keep on lovin’ me, baby,” Lance sings, grinning.

“You sexy thing,” Keith returns, deadpan. Lance just laughs, and he volunteers to grab a washcloth, soaking it in warm water before delivering it to Keith.

They snuggle up when Lance gets back to bed, and their voices are low and soft in the darkness. They talk about anything and everything, and Lance’s fingers trail over Keith’s skin as Keith’s voice fills his ears.

They drift off to sleep in between one sentence and the next, neither of them having noticed that for a while now, the number on their wrists has said one.


	31. chaos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW. somehow here we are again, at the end of yet another daily update fic. i'm always amazing at how quickly the month goes by when i do this.
> 
> for all of you who were here from the start and commented on every chapter: thank you so much!!! your comments made my day and i was always excited to get home and upload for y'all
> 
> for all those silent readers: i appreciate your kudos and silent support just as much! i really hope you enjoyed the fic and thank you for reading it!!!
> 
> for everyone that stumbles across this in the future: i hope you had a good binge!! i promise future me will enjoy any comments you leave, and please, for the love of god, go to sleep
> 
> anyway, i've yet to study for any of my midterms, so i should probably go do that now. enjoy the chapter!!! <3

Keith’s still asleep. He’s curled up against Lance, his forehead pressed to Lance’s hip. Lance sits up against the pillows, a data pat propped against his knees.

He sighs, looking away from Keith and back to the task at hand. He’s on the notes section of the data pad. Everyone has access to the notes section from every date pad, but they each made their own little folders, and it’s common curtesy to not open one another’s notes.

Now, Lance stares at his own notes folder, the most recent notes at the top of the list. _For my family. For Hunk. For Pidge_.

There’s one for everyone. He doesn’t click on them. Each letter was written within the past week, and he doesn’t have the strength to read over what he wrote. All he knows is that each letter brought him to tears, and he really hopes his friends aren’t going to have to open them tonight.

He stares at the last note, the one at the top of the list. _For Keith_.

He still hasn’t been able to write anything. He started that note first, just the title, and became so overwhelmed that he had to take a break. Every time he tries to come back to it, he finds that he can’t even open the damn thing. The thought of expressing how he feels for Keith, of trying to tell him everything in just written prose, feels impossible. Even now, he can’t open it.

He ends up setting the data pad aside, and he looks back at Keith.

So, so beautiful. So perfect.

“I can feel you staring at me,” Keith grumbles. Lance reaches out, brushing Keith’s hair out of his face.

“I like looking at you,” Lance says.

“Creep,” Keith jokes. His eyes are still closed, but he’s smiling. “I’m hungry.”

“Let’s go get breakfast,” Lance says. Part of him doesn’t want to leave the bed. Leaving the bed means truly starting the day. His last day. But he can’t stop time by hiding away in Keith’s room, so he gets up and gets dressed with Keith. They brush their teeth side by side, and Lance tugs on Keith’s hair — it’s getting awfully long. “You have to let me braid this,” he says.

“Braid it tonight,” Keith says. Lance smiles, his lips tight, and says nothing.

Breakfast isn’t a talkative affair. Allura tells them that they’re on course for the Zyhrtites’ planet. Not once did anyone suggest crossing them. Lance doesn’t doubt that they would come after Voltron with full force if they tried to avoid the promised sacrifice.

Before they get there, Lance finds himself in the med bay, staring at Pidge. Their medical chart shows all good things. It looks like they might even be out of the pod tomorrow, considering how quickly they’re healing.

“You’re a great friend,” Lance tells them. “You’re gonna see this war to its end, and you’re going to find your family.”

Pidge doesn’t respond, obviously. Lance presses a hand against the glass, and then he walks away.

Getting to the planet is a hassle. Not because it’s actually difficult to get there in any way, but because no one seems to have the heart to suggest they breach the atmosphere. Keith stands stiffly directly beside Lance, and everyone seems to be unconsciously grouped around him.

“Allura,” Lance murmurs. She’s standing in the center of the bridge, but the Castle is still. “It’s time.”

Lance can tell she listened to him, because the planet begins to move closer. She takes a deep, shuddering breath, and then she spins around and marches toward Lance. For half a second, he thinks she’s going to slap him.

The next moment, he has an armful of Allura. She’s way stronger than she looks, so Lance feels like he’s being crushed, but he hugs her back just as hard. Allura’s presence sometimes makes her seem like the tallest person in the room, which is why it’s always surprising when Lance remembers he’s taller than her.

“Princess,” Lance says softly. Irrationally, he was hoping they wouldn’t get all emotional. It’s only going to make things harder.

“Lance,” Allura says. “You’re a terrific paladin, and an amazing friend. The universe has so much to thank you for.”

Lance rubs her back. “You lead the Coalition better than anyone could. You’re going to win this war, Allura.”

Allura sniffles, and she steps back. The planet’s getting even bigger. They’ll be landing in a few minutes.

The next thing Lance knows, he’s being tugged tightly into Hunk’s arms — he crushes him even harder than Allura was able to. “You’re my best friend,” he says. “I miss staying up late and talking to you about everything and nothing in our dorm. I even miss how often you’d distract me from my homework and persuade me to sneak out. Lance, I—”

“I know, buddy,” Lance says. “I love you, too.”

“I don’t want you to—” he breaks off, sounding choked up.

“Me neither,” Lance admits. He claps Hunk on the back, and he has to look at the ground, because if he looks at Hunk he’s going to cry. He won’t be able to help it.

“Lance,” Coran says. He’s standing in front of Lance now. “Since meeting you, I’ve watched you grow into a fine young man. You — this whole team — you’ve become family. I’ll never not be proud of you.” He holds on his hand. Lance grabs it, and he tugs Coran into a hug. Coran sniffles loudly into his ear.

Shiro’s next, because everyone really is getting out their goodbyes now. Despite everyone being in denial about it for so long, Lance thinks that now they’re all realizing that this really could be it.

Shiro grabs Lance by the shoulders. “You’re selfless to the point of recklessness,” he says sternly. “You’re too good for this shitty universe.”

“Language,” Lance murmurs.

Shiro ignores him. “You’re the morale of this team, and we never could’ve made it this far without you.”

Pre-Voltron Lance would’ve been shitting his pants, hearing this.

“I used to think relationships among this team was a bad idea, but I’ve never been more wrong. You’re perfect for my brother.”

“Jesus,” Keith mutters.

“Shiro, you absolute softie,” Lance says, and Shiro pulls him into a hug.

After that, everyone looks at Keith. Expectant.

Keith just crosses his arms, stubborn.

“Lance,” he says.

Everyone waits.

“Don’t forget you promised to braid my hair tonight.”

Lance laughs. Allura looks shocked, no doubt expecting something much more emotional, and Shiro looks downright uncomfortable. But it wouldn’t be Keith if he weren’t still in denial, or at the very least, keeping all his feelings of worry and anxiety close to the chest.

“How could I forget?” Lance says, and he reaches out to grab Keith’s hand. Keith holds his a little tighter than usual.

Everyone wrapped up just in time. They touch down in the landing zone they were cleared for, and when they emerge from the Castle, Lance sees Raghir, the alien he spoke to over the comm call.

“I didn’t know whether to expect the rest of your team,” Raghir says. He reaches for Allura’s hand, which he kisses politely.

“I ended up telling them,” Lance says.

“Wise choice,” says Raghir. And then, “If you’ll follow me.”

He leads them through the roads, past a luxurious looking castle, and toward a giant arena. It must already be packed with people, if the roar of conversation is anything to go by.

“Our people are empaths,” Raghir explains as he leads them through some sort of back entrance. “Our main source of sustenance is emotion, which is why we demand sacrifices. The feelings that come before death — they’re a feast.”

Behind Lance, Keith sucks in a breath. Death. It’s confirmed, then.

“Right,” Lance says.

“Now, the order of proceedings,” Raghir says, all business, as if they’re discussing some upcoming business deal instead of the end of Lance’s not-very-long life. “First, we’ll bring you out into the arena. The king will greet you, and he’ll read out a list of your accomplishments with Voltron. This will make the audience like you more, which makes the meal more satisfying.”

“Right,” Lance says. He doesn’t know how he’s still walking. How he’s yet to just collapse on the ground.

“After that, you’ll have a moment to make your own announcement — you could thank the Zhyrtite soldiers for their help with the battle, or if you have some moving speech, that always works too.”

“Right.” It’s all Lance can say.

“Then, the King will release the combatant. You’ll be allowed a wooden spear. The fight won’t last long, and the beast is trained to make the actual kill quick. You won’t suffer.”

Somewhere behind Lance, someone lets out a muffled sob. Raghir inhales deeply, and Lance wonders if he’s feeding already.

“Hereafter, Voltron won’t be required to provide a sacrifice for our help. Yours will be enough, and we’ll assist with any battle, free of charge.”

“Like a membership,” Lance jokes weakly.

“Exactly,” Raghir says. “One last thing.” He hands Lance some kind of metal bracelet with a button on it. “Before the kill, the beast will hesitate. That’s when you must press this button. In that moment, the emotions you’re feeling will be pulled out of your body and expelled into the crowd. You can think of it like dessert, for our people.”

“Okay,” Lance says. Raghir looks at him, then to the team.

“I’ll give you a moment alone,” he says. “The ceremony will begin shortly. Please keep it quick.”

With that, he disappears, and Lance stands frozen.

“I’m going to throw up,” Hunk says wetly.

“Don’t do that, dude,” Lance says. His hands are shaking.

Everyone seems frozen with shock or fear. Lance can’t believe this is happening — that _this_ is what he was prophesied for. Dying in battle definitely would’ve been better. Would’ve felt more heroic, for sure.

“Lance,” Keith says, and his voice sounds thick, and Lance’s heart aches for him.

“I’m sorry,” Lance says. “I—"

Keith’s shaking his head. Lance almost expects him to cross his arms, to start tapping his heel. “I can’t let you go out there,” he says.

“Ceremony’s starting!” Raghir calls from down the hall. Lance stiffens, as does the entire team. Lance’s eyes feel strangely dry, but everyone else — every single one of them — they’re crying. They’re crying for him.

Lance strides forward. He grabs Keith’s face, and he presses a bruising kiss to his lips, trying to say everything he doesn’t have the time to say now, everything he couldn’t manage to put into that letter. All his love, all his affection, all his everything — in a single kiss.

He pulls away. Keith’s gripping his wrists. “I love you,” Lance tells him. “So much.”

And then he pulls away for real. He slips out of Keith’s grasp, and the noise Keith makes will haunt Lance for the rest of his admittedly short life. He follows Raghir down the hallway he disappeared into, and then he’s standing in a gaping entrance, looking out into the arena.

“It’s your time to shine,” Raghir says pleasantly.

“Wonderful,” says Lance. And then he steps into the arena.

Immediately, the cheers overwhelm him. The kings lets his audience scream and stomp and clap for a good while as Lance gets to the center of the arena. When he stands, the audience falls quiet.

“Today we celebrate the sacrifice of Lance McClain, Paladin of Voltron,” the king begins. And that’s when Lance tunes him out.

He has no idea whether the speech is good. Whether the things the king mentions are things he’d want to be remembered for. It all just slides over deaf ears. Lance can’t stop staring at the giant gate underneath where the king sits, the shadow of the monster within moving restlessly.

Lance wonders what he looks like, right then. Small, definitely. Pale, probably. But he hopes he’s at least standing up straight, with his head held high.

God, what a stupid way to die.

“And now, for the Last Words,” the king announces. Raghir runs toward Lance, holding out a microphone. Lance realizes he probably should’ve been planning what he wanted to say.

“Um,” he says, the second he’s holding the microphone, and that one word echoes all around him. He cringes. “I’m gonna be honest, I didn’t really plan a speech for today,” he says. The crowd laughs.

Lance opens his mouth, wracking his brain. What does he want his last words to be? What wisdom does he want to impart? What in the world does he want to be known for?

Before he can say anything, the crowd gasps. Instinctively, Lance looks toward the monster’s gate, but it’s still closed.

The next thing he knows, Keith’s crashing into him, and Lance hugs him to his side with one arm automatically. He holds him tight. Keith is shaking against him.

“Keith, babe, what are you doing here?” Lance asks. His voice echoes around the arena again, and he lowers the microphone slightly. Keith grabs it from his hand.

“I want to make a sacrifice,” he says.

Lance immediately yanks the microphone out of his hand. “No,” he says sternly. “Keith, no, that’s not happening.”

The crowd is murmuring with excitement. Anxiety is clawing its way up Lance’s chest, into his throat. Fuck. What if these people make Keith sacrifice himself, too? They can’t. _Keith_ can’t. He has to live.

In Lance’s panic, Keith manages to yank the microphone out of his hand.

“I have a better sacrifice,” he announces. “In the place of Lance’s sacrifice.”

“Go on,” the king calls to him.

“When that beast comes out, you might get a decent meal,” Keith ventures. “There’ll likely be some fear, some sadness. But mostly, Lance is just going to feel determined. And you can’t tell me that’s as strong of an emotion to feed off.”

The murmuring’s getting louder. Lance doesn’t know where Keith is going with this.

“I’m sure you can taste our emotions right now,” Keith continues. “Desperation. Lance’s anxiety, probably.” That earns a laugh. “Love,” Keith finishes. Many people in the audience lean forward. Lance can’t shake the feeling that they’re trying to get a taste.

“Instead of having Lance sacrifice his life, I propose something different. Let me sacrifice my love.”

Lance’s jaw drops. The crowd is cheering, and Lance feels cold inside. Objectively, it’s a better plan. It’s a way for Lance to not die. But he still feels sick at the thought of Keith sacrificing his love.

“I’ll admit, I’m intrigued,” the king says. “We’ve never had a sacrifice quite like this one before, and I’m willing to proceed with it.”

“Keith,” Lance says, weakly.

“I’m sorry,” Keith whispers, lowering the microphone. “It’s actually kind of selfish of me. I don’t think I could live with it, if you were the one to stop loving me.” He reaches out, and he slips the bracelet off Lance’s wrist. “For what it’s worth, I love you, Lance. And I know you’ll make me love you again.”

With that, he presses the button.

Visibly, nothing happens. Except the crowd goes absolutely feral. People are outright screaming in delight, and Keith stumbles as the emotion is ripped out of him. Lance catches him up against his side, and Keith straightens slowly. He looks at Lance and blushes before stepping away, and Lance’s heart breaks just a little bit more.

He wonders if dying would’ve been easier than this.

Lance is confident that ages pass before the crowd calms down, but later, Hunk will assure him that it was mere moments. The king looks crazed, but he thanks Keith profusely for his sacrifice. Raghir ends up grabbing him and Keith and leading them away. He almost looks drunk, his pupils dilated and his gaze hungry.

The team is beyond relieved. Lance is bounced around like a ping pong ball, from one pair of arms to another. All he wants is to talk to Keith, but Keith seems embarrassed to even be in his presence, and Lance doesn’t know what he would say to him.

Keith doesn’t love him anymore.

It seems like a small mercy that they aren’t invited to stay and celebrate with the Zhyrtites. They’re just escorted back to the Castle, and Allura takes off like they can’t get away from that planet fast enough.

The bridge is odd and silent. Lance feels mortified. Similar to when he first confessed his feelings to Keith, and Keith rejected him.

“We’re not totally in the clear,” Allura warns them. “We must keep an eye on Lance until midnight.”

“Agreed,” Lance says. He almost wants to laugh at the idea that he could still die, even after everything that’s happened. His eyes find Keith, who’s sitting at his station, staring down at his hands. He looks beyond confused, and Lance’s heart goes out for him. He can’t imagine what it must feel like, knowing that you felt something so strongly mere moments ago, only to be unable to find those feelings within yourself at all, anymore.

It’s the longest day of Lance’s life. Every moment seems to drag by at a snail’s pace. Never once is he alone, because no one wants to risk the fact that the number on his wrist still spells danger. Thankfully, he’s never left alone with Keith, which seems to be a relief for both of them.

Most of the day is spent in the rec room. No one speaks of Keith’s sacrifice, though Lance catches his friends staring at him a lot throughout the day, no doubt wondering what’s going on in his head. It’s like he’s reverted to the same Keith he was when they first got to space. All quiet and reserved and broody.

 _I know you’ll make me love you again,_ Keith had told him. Lance hopes he was right.

They’re all together when midnight approaches. The time is projected into the air as a hologram, and everyone’s looking between that and Lance’s and Keith’s wrists. They both have their arms turned upward on the table, their sleeves rolled back so everyone can see their numbers.

When the clock strikes midnight, Lance sees his number change for the last time. The 1 disappears, and he sees his wrist unadorned for the first time in thirty-one days.

Hunk is the first to react. He yells in excitement, and he grabs Lance around the waist and leaps up from the couch, spinning him through the air. Lance is screaming and laughing, and everyone’s shouting over each other. Even Keith seems relieved.

It takes a while for everyone to calm down. Hunk ends up bringing out a bunch of appetizers, and Shiro sets up this board game that he loves and everyone else tolerates, but for once, everyone actually enjoys it. At one point, Lance even catches Keith staring at him, and he winks. Keith quickly looks away, but Lance thinks he sees a tell-tale blush decorating his cheeks.

Everyone only goes off to bed once Allura accidentally falls asleep in an armchair. They decide to call it quits, and Hunk shakes her awake before everyone goes their separate ways. Lance receives several more hugs, and then he ends up following Keith down the hall, because after everything, their rooms are still right across from each other.

It’s been a while since Lance slept in his bed alone.

They get to their doors, and Lance clears his throat. “Goodnight,” he says, weirdly formal.

Keith shifts on his feet. Lance’s door slides open behind him, and he takes a step backward, standing in the doorway. When they first got to space, Keith was convinced that the doorways couldn’t sense them. He would always berate Lance for standing in them, telling him that one day the door was going to close on him and cut him in half.

“Lance,” Keith says suddenly.

“Keith,” Lance returns.

“Um. You were supposed to braid my hair tonight. Remember?”

Lance raises his eyebrows. “You still want to do that?” he says.

Keith’s arms are crossed. He looks distinctly uncomfortable, and his left heel is tapping against the floor. “I know how I used to feel,” he says in a rush. “And I know I — I _liked_ the feeling, and I felt it strongly.” He’s blushing now, and he can’t even seem to make eye contact with Lance. “I just can’t remember exactly how it felt.”

“That’s okay,” Lance says softly. “I’m not going to pressure you to feel that way for me. And if you never feel like that again, that’s fine, too.” It’s really not, but Lance would never tell him that. Never tell him that his heart will be missing a Keith-shaped piece for as long as this lasts, because he loves him too much to tell him that. “You saved my life today, Keith.”

“I _want_ to feel that way again,” Keith says. “And it’s not like I’m not attracted to you. I… think that’s obvious,” he says.

“Are you referencing our sex life?” Lance jokes.

Keith goes _red_. He clears his throat. “Um.”

Lance just rolls his eyes. He crosses the hallway, and he grabs Keith’s hand. “C’mon, Kogane. I’m going to tame that wild hair of yours.”

“It’s not wild,” Keith says. Lance ignores him. He just leads him into the bathroom, and he jumps onto the counter and has Keith stand between his legs, facing away from him.

Lance gets to work immediately, brushing Keith’s hair and then sectioning it off. It feels good to have Keith between his knees, close to his body. For the first time, some hope comes creeping back in.

“So,” Lance says conversationally. “You’re attracted to me.”

“Christ,” Keith says. “Are you going to be insufferable about this?”

“You love it,” Lance says. “Sorry, correction: you _used_ to love it.”

Keith shrinks against him. “I’m sorry about this, by the way,” he mutters. “I can’t imagine how you feel.”

Lance scoffs. “I feel like the man I love did something incredibly noble to save my life, and I’d be an idiot not to be grateful. How do _you_ feel about it?”

“Disoriented,” Keith admits. “Last night… I remember feeling so _strongly_ about you. It feels like something’s missing, or like I’m broken. It doesn’t make sense how I can’t feel it anymore.”

Lance finishes the braid, and he snatches a hair tie off Keith’s counter in order to hold it in place. “You’re not broken,” he promises. “And I’ll be patient. We don’t need to rush things. We don’t even need to date, right now, if you need some time to process everything.”

Keith shakes his head. “I like you, Lance. Long before I loved you, I liked you. I guess I just feel… kind of giddy. And embarrassed. Why do I feel so embarrassed all the sudden?”

“Because crushes are embarrassing, and love makes you forget about how embarrassing they are,” Lance says. “And you, Keith Kogane, have a crush on me.” He grabs Keith’s waist and turns him around. The braid looks good from the front, too, thank God. And Keith’s face is pink, which is of course adorable on him.

“I’m going to kiss you now, if that’s okay,” Lance says, and Keith nods jerkily. Lance presses a peck to his lips, and Keith still seems flustered about it. Lance slides off the counter, his hands still on Keith’s hips, which he squeezes momentarily. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“Okay,” Keith says. He’s staring at Lance with wide eyes. Lance wonders what he’s feeling right now.

Lance kisses him again, a little slower this time, a little longer, and then he pulls away. “Night,” he says, before slipping out of Keith’s room and into his own. The thought of sleeping next to Keith tonight is a weird one, and Lance isn’t sure he could handle it.

He lays in his bed for a long time, that night. Today was an absolute whirlwind, of fear and despair and relief. His mind’s too active for him to sleep, and he ends up grabbing a data pad, telling himself he’s going to do research or read articles or something.

He ends up going to the notes function, and he starts archiving the notes he made for his friends. They were emotional and heartfelt and sad, but he doesn’t have the heart to delete them. Plus, despite the fact that he no longer has a number on his wrist, they can never truly rule out the possibility of death. At least this way, if Lance ever goes (and, thank God, it will be totally unpredictable to him and the rest of the team) his letters to his friends will remain. A last goodbye from a different time.

He pauses at Keith’s letter. Automatically, he clicks on it, the way he had so many times before, in the moments when he’d tried to convince himself that he was going to be able to write something down.

And surprisingly, he sees words there. It makes his mouth go dry.

_Lance,_

_Sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop. Actually, I kind of did. But I know what you’re doing. And the next time you open this letter, you better read this and realize that if you write me a goodbye letter, I’m gonna stab you with my knife._

_I already told you I’m not going to let you die without a fight. And I know you think I’m just in denial, but I’m serious, Lance. Somehow, someway, you’ve misinterpreted your prophecy. I don’t know how, but I’m going to make sure it’s true._

_I’ve loved you for a long time. Long before you ever told me at that river. Long before we ever got our prophecies. I was so scared of mine because it said my love might fail to reach me, and I knew my love was you._

_Lance, don’t write me a goodbye letter. Because I’ll never be able to say goodbye to you._

Somehow, Lance still couldn’t fall asleep after that.

\--

It is, perhaps, the happiest breakfast Lance has experienced in a month. He’s never heard this group of people so goddamn chipper in the morning, but everyone’s talking and laughing despite the early hour.

And then, of course, it gets even better.

Pidge bursts into the dining room. _“What day is it?!”_ they demand.

“Pidge!” Hunk yells. “You’re alive! What — how are you out of the pod already?”

Pidge doesn’t answer. “What day is it?! How many days are left?!” they look frantic, and they’re looking at Lance desperately. He holds up his wrist, number-free.

Pidge’s mouth drops open. “You figured it out?” they say, incredulous, and then they laugh, rushing forward to hug Lance. “Oh, thank God!”

“Actually, we figured nothing out,” Lance says casually.

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nope! You should’ve seen Keith’s conspiracy board.”

Pidge just shakes their head. “You guys are just…”

“Tell us,” Keith says, eyeing Pidge intensely. “What did you figure out?”

“Can you control time?” Shiro interjects.

“What? No,” Pidge says impatiently.

“Dammit,” Hunk mutters.

“I realized that we interpreted the prophecies all wrong,” Pidge says. “Remember when we got that new prophecy? _Together you’ll weather, but weaker, apart_.”

“Yeah,” Lance says. “She wanted me and Keith to bone.”

“I am going to kill you,” Shiro says. Keith seems to share the sentiment.

“Okay, no,” Pidge says. “She was telling you that your prophecies were incomplete. You and Keith — your fates were intertwined. And so were your prophecies.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Hunk says.

“And you figured this out during battle how?” Allura adds.

“You know, it’s like when you’re showering,” Pidge shrugs. “Random ideas just come to you.”

“Not once have I ever had an idea during battle,” Lance declares. “Battle Lance is an enigma to me. He has zero thoughts.”

“Okay, I’m confused,” Shiro says. “How are their prophecies intertwined?”

And Pidge recites:

_“Time is short, your love draws near._   
_That which you fear approaches but may fail to reach you._   
_Death knocks on your door; don’t open up for just anyone.”_

Keith is gaping.

“That still makes no sense to me,” Lance decides.

“Basically, if Keith hadn’t fallen in love with you, you would’ve died. He probably made miniscule decisions that led to your survival in the end.”

“Oh yeah, real miniscule,” Lance jokes. Keith sinks down in his chair, looking mortified.

Pidge just frowns. “What? What did he do?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Lance says lightly. “He just offered his love for me to a bunch of emotion-eating aliens so I wouldn’t have to sacrifice my life.”

Pidge sinks down in a chair, looking exhausted. “You know what, I think I’m glad I sat this one out.”

“Thank God Keith loved him,” Hunk says, splaying his hands on the table. “Can you imagine if he hadn’t?”

 _Yes,_ Lance thinks slightly bitterly, catching Keith’s gaze across the table. He winks anyway. It’s just going to take some time, that’s all.

\--

If you were to ask Lance about the most important battle of his life, he’d have to say it was the Battle of Texitreak.

Of course, many battles are important in the midst of the war. There are ones that literally turn the tide of the war, ones that save millions and prevent the Galra from gaining destructive weapons. There are battles that save entire galaxies, and battles that topple some of the Galra’s most important leaders.

There was the battle where Lance first kissed Keith, and the battle where he offered his life as a sacrifice, ensuring that Keith would eventually steal that sacrifice from him.

Even still, none of those battles are quite as important as this one.

It’s bloody and long. Allies from far and wide were called to help, and it’s probably one of the biggest battles they’ve ever endured. What started in the air, between lions and fighter jets, ends up on the ground. Thousands of people clash, fighting with swords and guns. People are rushed off the field constantly, shoved into the healing tent. The battle is deafening, and everyone is tired and injured. At some points, it feels like it might never end.

Despite this, Lance fights with vigor. He and Keith have cleared a circle around them. They have more room to maneuver than usual, their fighting so brutal that they’ve created a pocket for themselves in the crowd.

They’ve been fighting for hours, but neither of them have been grievously injured. There’s blood in Lance’s mouth and a cut on his arm, but he can barely feel it.

It’s been a while since he did a headcount. Lance turns on his comms, and soon enough, everyone else joins the channel.

“Headcount?” Lance says.

“I’m good,” says Hunk. One.

“Same here,” says Pidge. “Bastard,” they grunt at whoever they’re fighting. Two.

“Kicking ass, taking names,” Allura says, and Lance barks out a laugh. Yep, that’s three. And she learned that from him.

“All good up here!” Coran says, just as the Castle blasts a laser through the crowd. Four.

“Five,” Shiro says, obviously having been counting along with him, and Lance rolls his eyes fondly.

“Six,” Keith copies him, and Lance snorts.

“Thanks, guys,” he says, and he clicks off the comms, the battle already loud enough in his ears.

Moments later, Keith is calling out for him.

“Lance!” he shouts, and Lance spins around. Keith’s on the other side of the circle, and it’s immediately obvious what he sees. There’s a giant approaching. The Galra recruited them from this planet on the outreaches of the Solobux Galaxy. They’re more brawn than brains, but they’re still incredibly dangerous, especially when they’re equipped with guns.

Keith crouches, his hands laced together before him, and Lance starts running immediately. He jumps, his foot landing in Keith’s palms, and Keith stands up at the same time, launching Lance into the air.

He goes flying, and the world slows down for a second. The giant is in his sights. Its skin is thick, but its eyes are vulnerable, and that’s where Lance aims as he reaches the peak of his momentum. For just a moment, the world is completely still, the giant frozen in Lance’s crosshairs.

He shoots, the giant roars, and then he’s falling back through the air. Keith catches him, and he lands lightly, the battlefield shaking as the giant crashes to the ground.

Lance pretends to blow smoke out of his gun, completely ineffective since his visor’s down and blasters don’t even produce smoke, but Keith laughs. He’s still holding Lance’s waist where he caught him.

“I love you,” he says fondly, and Lance swears, the battle ceases around them. Everyone takes a time out, and it’s just him and Keith. Him, completely and utterly dumbstruck, and Keith, smiling at him with the brightest expression in the world, despite the cut on his cheek and the sweat plastering his hair to his face. Dude really needs to learn to fight with his visor down.

“Keith,” Lance says. Is all he can say.

“I do, I love you. I’ve being thinking it for a while, now. I just — I wanted to be sure.”

“Marry me,” Lance blurts.

Keith gapes at him, and Lance raises his blaster as someone comes running out of the crowd, right toward Keith’s back. The battle resumes, and they’re fighting harder than ever, infused with adrenaline.

“Yes,” Keith says. “Yes! Are you kidding?”

“Oh, yeah, total joke,” Lance says sarcastically. “I have no interest in actually marrying you.”

“Dick,” Keith says, but he’s laughing.

“Okay,” Lance says. “So, fiancés, then. We’re engaged.”

“Where’s my ring, McClain?”

“Funnily enough, I have one,” Lance says. “Stupid of me, not to bring it to battle.”

Keith’s laughing as he fights. He probably looks maniacal, but Lance knows better. He’s grinning too.

He turns his comms on, wincing at the influx of noise in his ears. Everyone else connects automatically.

“Everything okay, Lance?” Shiro asks. “Do you need another headcount?”

“Keith and I are getting married!” Lance shouts.

“Right now?” Pidge says sarcastically, but Lance can hear the grin in their voice.

“Oh my God,” Hunk says. “Am I best man? Lance? Tell me I’m best man!”

Lance just laughs. He’s in the midst of battle, something so terrifying and dangerous that his mother would surely cry just imagining it. But he feels invincible, and with Keith as his back, he practically is.

It’s funny. Not so long ago, Lance spent every day feeling like he was on the brink of death, already a ghost. And yet now, he’s never felt more alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i TOLD you i wouldn't kill anybody! <3
> 
> thank you sm for reading!! have a good day!


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